


Crimson Stains

by Hellowriters



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Hatake Kakashi, Dimension Travel, Gen, Good Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Light Angst, M/M, POV Hatake Kakashi, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Slow Burn, World Domination, Worldbuilding, the alternate dimension is fucked up, two kakashi basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellowriters/pseuds/Hellowriters
Summary: "—not kill him, understood?!" Obito growls in exasperation.There's a displeased grunt and the sound of metal clicking against teeth."As much as I would like to agree with you, Genma," Raidō tries civilly, "we can use him for information. I just don't... I just don't understand why he's dressed in pajamas..."There's a prolonged silence following that statement. Kakashi can practically feel their eyes burning into his skin. It isn't his fault that he ended up here, he doesn't even know how or why it happened in the first place, so if he is dressed for sleep, then the guys should cut him some slack.Or Kakashi wakes up in a different world and he isn't sure if he likes what he finds there.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito, Uchiha Obito & Shiranui Genma & Namiashi Raidou, Uchiha Obito & Uzumaki Kushina
Comments: 184
Kudos: 876
Collections: Fics that plague my dreams at night





	1. the red sky

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something like this for some time now. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do!

**000**

Kakashi has never missed the battlefield. When he wakes up on one – the earth hungrily drinking the still warm blood of the fallen shinobi strewn about it – he can't fight the tight coil burning like ice in the middle of his chest. It is not too long since the Fourth Shinobi World War has ended, mere weeks, its wounds are still too raw and the sight greeting Kakashi cuts deep into them, bringing fresh pain and blood to the surface.

In spite of any distress he might be experiencing, Kakashi is a trained ninja first and foremost. After a quick inspection of his physical condition – no injuries, chakra levels alarmingly, but somehow unsurprisingly low – he pushes himself upright and regrets not doing it slower. For a moment, the world tilts nauseatingly to the side and he only has a couple of seconds to yank down his mask before he bends over, spilling his guts out. The bile is burning the flesh of his throat and when his stomach is totally empty, he heaves dry coughs over the mess on the ground. He forces himself to calm down, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, then pulls his mask back up and surveys the area once again.

There are no threats, no people, other than the corpses resting on the battered ground. Almost a hundred of them scattered over the wide rocky plain; he recognizes the uniforms of various villages on the bodies closest to him. In the sinister glow of the moon, a lone and pale specter on the infinite night sky, they are a somber and unmistakable vestige of the carnage which has transpired. Kakashi pointedly ignores the renewed sickness spreading out from his chest to his stomach.

What he wants is to go over and inspect the traces left by the battle, figure out what happened and how the hell he ended up here, but his limbs feel like they're made of lead. 

Instead, he drags himself to the large boulder lodged into the earth a couple of yards to his left, settling himself tiredly against it, and beats his brains out trying to remember _what the hell_ happened. Unfortunately, the last clear memory of his is him going comfortably to sleep in the safety of his own bed. _After_ the war. His loose sleeping pants and shirt (mask attached) are testimony to that. A frown mars his face as he surveys the field stretching before him. There is something in the way the bodies lie on the ground; he can smell the blood, offensive and familiar to his sensitive nose, but he can see no kunai thrown and the earth looks perfectly undisturbed when any jutsu would've left at least a trace behind after its use. Still, the remnant whiff of chakra is chilling, unmistakable.

Kakashi feels his mind working in a baffling, growing confusion. Was there a battle between the villages that Konoha hadn't been aware of? It seems impossible considering the note on which the Fourth Shinobi War has ended, but he can clearly see shinobi dressed in the uniforms of Kumo and Kiri. Rogues perhaps, but he can't see their forehead protectors. And still, the image before him is difficult to place among the way the world has been going after the war. Peace, as much as it is fragile, was clear in the distance. So what...

His flourishing thoughts come suddenly to an abrupt halt when Kakashi's senses spike in warning of an unknown approaching party. They might be enemies; they might be friends – it doesn't matter. Kakashi, dressed up for sleep and not for confrontation, forces his muscles to move and dashes to the nearest body, a dozen yards from him, steals a kunai and makes a voiceless apology to the dead shinobi. While doing so, his eyes catch for a brief moment on the nin's hitai-ate, which only helps to strengthen his confusion and the deeply unsettling sensation in his bones.

The kanji for _shinobi_ is etched into the metal.

There is no time to dwell on it though and Kakashi crawls in the small crook between two upheaved rocks – inconspicuous among the many others on the vast and open rocky terrain, keeping his chakra tightly under control as to pass unobserved, only seconds before three individuals arrive on the battlefield. He can't see them from his position, but the three ninjas don't make any effort in concealing their presence. Kakashi can hear them moving in stern silence around the vast field, checking the bodies for survivors.

 _There aren't any_.

"No survivors over here," a voice calls loudly, tinged with a grim resignation.

Kakashi freezes at the familiarity in it and his skin suddenly feels too tight for him, something twisting achingly in his chest.

It should be impossible. _This voice_. Perhaps he could have skeptically deemed the bizarreness of his current situation as something possible – highly improbable, but possible nonetheless – but _this_? Kakashi is tempted to form the hand sign for releasing genjustus, but in case the situation does turn out to be _real –_ instinctively he knows it is – he is unable to do so with the other three shinobi in his proximity. Of course, unless he plans to be discovered.

"Yeah," another answers in the same tone and Kakashi recognizes this one as Genma's.

Some of the tension involuntarily leaves his body, but the impression of wrongness continues to persist. _What exactly is going on?_

"Man, this is straight up slaughter... Raidō?"

"All dead here as well," Raidō says.

"Shit..." Genma drawls.

Kakashi can picture him grimacing around his senbon, can hear it in his words, and because of the fact that these are people he knows, his fellow Konoha ninjas, his _comrades –_ no matter how odd the circumstances or the impossibility of _that_ voice – Kakashi slowly steps out of his hiding spot. His hands form the sign for dispelling illusions.

" _Kai!_ " he says, pulling his chakra tight and then flaring it in order to disrupt his chakra flow.

Nothing happens. Not that Kakashi actually expects anything different.

The closest of the three, Genma, immediately turns around to face him. His eyes widen for a moment in surprise and recognition, and he instantly adopts a defensive stance. In less than three seconds, the other two shinobi are by his side in similar positions.

It's true, Kakashi wasn't expecting to be jumped on with flowers and kisses in greeting, but the killing intent radiating off off the three men stuns him to a halt. He is so stunned, in fact, that for a millisecond he doesn't even acknowledge the ninja flanked in between Genma and Raidō. When he _does_ finally acknowledge him, Kakashi is _so stunned_ that all of his thoughts become mushed together in an incomprehensible mess and all he can do is stare and stare and _continue_ to stare, the whole world forgotten.

It feels like a déjà vu.

The mess that are his brains is mirrored perfectly by an even bigger mess which are his feelings. A dangerous cocktail of puzzlement, disbelief, regret and unconsumed grief brews like a storm under his skin, its focal point being his rapidly beating heart. It is all too much. For a second time that night, Kakashi's world tilts – this time trying to rearrange itself according to all the absurd information he has gathered.

 _Obito_.

Obito, alive and well, dressed in standard shinobi uniform, is practically glaring at Kakashi. His left eye is covered with the cloth from his forehead protector and the scars marring the right side of his face twist at once with his scowl.

The next moments are spent in a tense silence on the part of the three ninjas and a stupefied one on Kakashi's.

Despite everything, Kakashi is quickly recovering. The gears in his mind start working again, even if that means storing and locking away the fact that _Obito_ is _right_ there in front of him, even though he is _dead._ Supposed to be dead. With at least half of his brain functioning again, Kakashi is vaguely aware that this can't be any world he knows. Everything is too twisted, all the pieces of information point in that direction, but no matter what perverted parallel dimension he might be in, these are people he would trust with his life. Because no matter what perverted parallel dimension he might be in, he can't imagine a world where these people would be anything but good at heart. Even luckless, misguided Obito, for all the evil he had done, was nothing else than a broken man with shattered dreams, who had proven in the end that deep down, he was still the hero whom Kakashi has worshipped for years, the hero who died for his friends and who unknowingly shaped the rest of Kakashi's life with his sacrifice.

Even more than that, the three of them are wearing the hitai-ate of the Allied Shinobi Forces and Kakashi trusts them, even though they evidently don't trust him. The recognition which flashed on Genma's face coupled with their instant reaction of jumping into defense steer Kakashi's thoughts in a direction he doesn't really want to be going. So, he doesn't think – not yet – about who _he_ might be in this world.

Cautiously, slowly, Kakashi drops his stolen kunai and raises his arms in a placating manner, praying to the sky that they will take this for the olive branch that it is and not instantly try to kill him. With his exhaustive lack of chakra, making an escape would prove to be _just a little bit difficult_. They tense, all three of them, but don't make any move, to Kakashi's relief.

"Maa," he says with deceptive nonchalance and composure as to not betray his own distress and anxiety, his eyes fixed pointedly on Genma and not on the ghost of his old teammate, "I'm sure we can talk about this without the weapons, this is just a misunderstanding."

This apparently prompts the three shinobi into action. Genma's eyes narrow dangerously, senbon at ready, and Raidō's katana – Kokutō – is posed to strike, but it is Obito who _kamuis_ behind Kakashi and hits him forcefully over the back of his head, enough to knock him out. The only reason Kakashi lets this happen is because these are his comrades and even if he might not be theirs in this world, Kakashi has the distinct feeling that they would rather capture him alive if given the chance.

**000**

There are voices aggressively whispering when he wakes up again. He is lying face down on a tuft of grass and there's chakra wire digging painfully into his bare wrists, keeping them tightly bound behind his back. The throbbing ache spreading out from the back of his skull almost makes him groan, but he controls himself and doesn't betray the fact that he is once again conscious. Instead, he focuses on the conversation going on around him.

"—not kill him, understood?!" Obito growls in exasperation.

There's a displeased grunt and the sound of metal clicking against teeth.

"As much as I would like to agree with you, Genma," Raidō tries civilly, "we can use him for information. I just don't... I just don't understand why he's dressed in pajamas..."

There's a prolonged silence following that statement. Kakashi can practically feel their eyes burning into his skin. It isn't his fault that he ended up here, he doesn't even know _how_ or _why_ it happened in the first place, so if he is dressed for sleep, then the guys should cut him some slack.

"Speaking of which, did you guys see his eyes?" Raidō continues.

"I did," Obito says. Then tentatively, as if he doesn't trust his words, "There's something about this Kakashi, I don't know. Other than his eye, his stupid face looks the same, but... He feels _different_ somehow."

"It might be a trick," Genma butts in. "If we kill him—"

"Oh, fuck you, Shiranui. We are _not_ killing him!"

Kakashi feels oddly grateful for Obito's foul mouth if it keeps Genma within ten feet of his body, though he can't blame his ex-ANBU teammate for being overly cautious. If this Kakashi of theirs is anything at all like what Kakashi imagines...

"Relax, _Obito_. I was just saying."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up already."

An irritated sigh cuts through the air. ''Guys." Raidō intervenes pointedly. "Let's focus. You know we don't have that much time left."

"Right."

"Sure."

It seems like a good time as any for Kakashi to 'wake up', so he makes a show of groaning and tugging at his restraints. The other three fall silent and a sudden tension seeps into the air. Kakashi is not sure if he would like to find out what his counterpart has done in this world to elicit such a reaction – especially when he is tied up and his chakra suppressed by a seal –, but the small clues are piling up into the looming dark shape of a man Kakashi refuses to think he could ever be. But then, the blood-soaked battlefield comes to mind along with the frozen expressions of his comrades before their faces had settled for contempt and resignation, and Kakashi thinks he should be expecting the worse. Still, he tries to approach the situation objectively, barring the whirr of feelings threatening to overwhelm his thoughts.

His newfound resolve withers when he meets Obito's eye, who is staring back at him with what Kakashi recognizes as what he himself had felt back when the two of them were fighting on opposite sides in the war. Seeing Obito is the most potent reminder that what is happening is _real,_ and something like morbid fascination stirs in Kakashi's chest. This Obito is on their side, while their Kakashi is the enemy.

He can't help but think about this twisted irony of fate.

From his horizontal position on the ground, he tries to sound as honest as he can be. "I know this might sound hard to believe, but I am not who you think I am."

Three pairs of eyes narrow dangerously at him.

"You expect us to believe you are _not_ Kakashi Hatake?" Raidō asks incredulously.

"Don't play games with us, Kakashi," Obito warns.

Kakashi sighs and closes his eyes briefly. "How should I put it... I _am_ Kakashi Hatake. Just not the one you know."

His words are met with silence, before Genma unhelpfully says, "...We could still kill him."

"Enough, Genma, please," Raidō sounds at the limits of his patience, which would usually be more than the one of your average man.

"No, no. I mean just as a _possibility_."

"No. And like I said, let's focus."

"But I _do_ have a point though."

"I will stop hearing whatever you say starting now."

"Hey—"

" _Shut up_ , guys, for fucks sake," Obito's voice is packed with annoyance, but his eye never once leaves Kakashi's, who absentmindedly notes, relieved, that the two still share the same dynamic Kakashi knows even in this world – in which case it can't be _that_ perverted. "What do you mean 'not the one you know'? Huh? What's that supposed to mean, Kakashi?"

"I'm not exactly sure." He frowns, the grass tickling at his face, and tires to make sense of a situation that shouldn't make any sense in the first place. "My theory is, as absurd as it may sound, that I somehow traveled from my dimension to this one. I don't know how and I am just as confused as you. Obito... I promise, I am not your Kakashi, whoever he is in this world."

Obito's set expression wavers. "You could be lying."

"I could, but you have to take my word for it. Bring me to a Yamanaka – if you weren't already planning to do so."

Genma shares a look with Raidō, before their gazes set on Obito, who in turn is still fixed on Kakashi. The Uchiha is nervously chewing on his bottom lip and Kakashi is surprised that he can read his old teammate well enough to know that he is about to relent.

It is a good thing, Kakashi thinks, that it is Obito he met. Anyone else and they might not have hesitated in trying to kill Kakashi right away, just as Kakashi would not have hesitated to kill Tobi or Madara before the face under the mask was finally revealed.

This Obito... He is missing his left eye and has the same scars as the Obito Kakashi knew – even a sliver of the white Zetsu matter is visible where the sleeve of his shirt has ridden up his arm. It is obvious that the Kannabi Bridge mission culminated in the same disastrous way in this world just as in Kakashi's, but he can't imagine what could have possibly happened afterwards which led to _this_ outcome.

Perhaps he is wrong, he thinks. Perhaps in this world things have been different since the beginning, he hopes, but doesn't really know why. If he can convince these people to trust him, he can find out. Maybe he can even help them, and they can help him get home.

 _Home_. Another thing Kakashi would rather block out of his thoughts, because he has no idea what cruel force ripped him from his home to dump him in this place, and oftentimes the lack of knowledge makes such actions difficult to countervail. Kakashi finds some consolation in knowing that if it was possible to get here, then it must be possible to go back.

"Right," Obito says, finally tearing his eye from Kakashi and looking up at the sky. "Fuck," he hisses, and his movements turn hasty as he leans over and hauls Kakashi up to his feet.

Genma and Raidō are gripped in the hand of the same urgency as they go about gathering up the leftovers of their camp. Kakashi knows something is happening, and he looks up at the sky in the same way Obito did, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. In the distance, the sky is just beginning to light up in shades of brilliant crimson as dawn just begins to crack. Was Kakashi really out for that long? It seemed no later than the middle of the night when he woke up on that battlefield. And that incandescent red on the sky, if Kakashi really considers it, doesn't exactly strike him as natural.

He forces himself to drop his eyes back on the three shinobi scrambling around him. Whatever is happening with the sky is making them nervous, and that unsettles Kakashi more than he would like to admit.

"Can I help?" He offers. "What is wrong with the sky?"

They ignore him and hurry to wrap up. When they are done, not even two minutes later, the bloody color has already expanded over half of the sky. The air in the distance, Kakashi can feel it now, is dense and crackling with a malevolent chakra enough to curdle the blood in his veins. Worst of all is that he can recognize it, has felt it once before in his lifetime – _Jūbi's chakra._ But not quite. There's something else mixed with it, something that feels eerily familiar, but as frustrating as it is, he can't tell what.

"Shiranui, Namiashi, you go first. I'll send Kakashi next so be ready to catch him, alright?"

"Obito, you sure you have enough chakra for all four of us? Jokes aside, maybe we should just leave him here," Genma suggests with a seriousness Kakashi knows is reserved only for cases of catastrophe. "And you should send him first, with one of us. I don't think it's a good idea if you get stuck alone with him."

Obito visibly clenches his jaw before expelling the tension with a sigh. His eye finds Kakashi, gaze heavy with resolve, and he answers.

" _No_. If my chakra runs out, I'd rather it be him who I have to leave behind. But that won't happen." A confidence he hasn't heard since the days of Team Minato resounds in Obito's voice. "Worst case scenario I'll be stuck in Kamui for a while." He glances pointedly over at Genma, then back at Kakashi, before wholly turning his body towards his comrades. "Now move it, Shiranui, we don't have all night."

The two Tokujō don't seem appeased, but they straighten up in front of Obito, whose Sharingan spins to life.

"Take care," Raidō tells him. "We'll be ready when you arrive."

A moment later they are sucked into Kamui. It visibly tires Obito, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion, and Kakashi knows it shouldn't cost him that much chakra.

He frowns at Obito and notes as much. "Kamui consumes too much of your chakra."

"Shut up, Bakakashi," Obito snaps and the insult comes too naturally, which surprises the Uchiha more than it does Kakashi. A somber expression flashes over Obito's face, then it is instantly covered by a scowl. Still, his breath comes out in pants and his hands are slightly shaky at his sides. He closes his eye for a moment and when he looks again at Kakashi, a renewed determination glimmers in it. "Ready?"

The oppressive feeling of the evil chakra is nearly tangible, scorching, and the red of the sky is almost over them.

"No, Obito, wait" Kakashi stops him, speaking urgently, "take us both to Kamui's dimension. Otherwise you won't have enough chakra left to get yourself out of here."

"As if you'd know," the Uchiha snipes at him. "How do I know this is not a trap?"

"You don't," Kakashi says and can't erase the sense of urgency is his tone, spurred on by the terror-inducing feel of that red chakra. "There's no more time! Please, now, Obito!"

The Uchiha clenches his fists, but doesn't argue, because Kakashi is right. The air suddenly feels too hot and it's hard to breathe, while the crackle of the chakra becomes deafening. For a split second, before they are absorbed into Obito's Kamui, Kakashi is overcome by a terrible sensation, an invisible force pressing into his skin and into his lungs, and it feels as if his blood has started boiling on the inside. It feels like dying, but a thousand times worse. _He should know_.

They both land gasping on one of the odd cubes in Obito's dimension. Gracelessly sprawled on the ground where he has fallen, Kakashi coughs and hacks and desperately wants to pull down his mask, because no amount of oxygen is enough to squelch the need in his burning lungs, but his hands are frustratingly bound in chakra wire cutting skin with each of his forceful tugs.

Also _, what the hell was that?_

Next to him, Obito is greedily drinking the cold air. He is pale and ridden with exhaustion, but as stubborn as he is, Obito only rests for a few short moments and then he is trembling all over as he struggles to get to his feet.

"Kakashi," his voice comes out choked and breathless, "we... have to go."

"You have to rest Obito, you can't—"

"Stop, Kakashi." He weakly shakes his head. "You don't... understand. We— we can't stay here. It's not— it's not safe to stay in one place," he finishes with a jittery gasp.

Kakashi would like to protest, demand how it's possible for them not to be safe when they are in Obito's own pocket dimension, but he does none of these things. He follows Obito's lead and pushes himself to stand up.

Bone-weary and still recovering from being touched by the malevolent force, they slowly make their way across the dimension. It stretches infinitely around them, dark and cold, and that wide ocean of cubes bends with Obito's will, allowing them to step from one to the next easily, without the aid of chakra. They walk in silence for a while, both too tired to say anything. Even here, a feeble impression of the oppressive evil from before hangs in the air, even though it should be impossible.

After what Kakashi has deemed as a decent amount of time, he asks the question which has been resting on the tip of his tongue since he met the ninja trio. "Tell me, Obito, who exactly am I in this world?"

Obito huffs and gives him a side glance and for a while they continue on quietly. There are so many unanswered questions, but Kakashi can understand why Obito is so reluctant to offer any explanations. Kakashi sighs and resigns to just keep moving. His fingers twitch where his hands are tied behind his back, an instinctual reaction to the itching need of pulling out _Icha Icha_ and reading it while they walk.

"You know Akatsuki?" Obito later breaks the silence.

"Yes."

It is another long pause before Obito retakes the conversation. "And you aren't part of it, Kakashi?"

"Hm?" This is the only indication Kakashi needs to confirm one of his growing suspicions. "Of the Akatsuki? No..."

"Yeah, well here you're their leader. You—" Obito's almost chokes on the words and he takes a moment before speaking again. Kakashi waits patiently and steels himself for what he's about to hear. "You did this, Kakashi. That evil thing outside, it's your fault. Remember the dead ninjas where we captured you? They are dead because they got caught in it, in that damn chakra storm. And so is half the world, for fucks sake. Those who did not yield to Akatsuki's will, to _your_ will, they all died. So do you get it? What you've done here?"

Despite being said calmly, Obito's words burn almost as hotly as the thing from earlier and they each feel like a stab to the chest for Kakashi.

He understands, in a way. He understands it technically.

Deep down, he understands nothing at all.


	2. the Hokage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the unexpected, but so appreciated response to the first chapter of this fic!

**000**

The ground is damp and freezing under his bare feet, and they haven't given him as much as a single rag to rest on.

Though Kakashi buzzes with unrest. He wants to move, he wants to run and leap around trees, he wants to meet enemies in battle and draw them into his deadly dance, to feel his pulse racing with adrenaline and blood rushing in his veins. He wants. He _needs_. There is a tension under his skin, growing, expanding until every fiber in his body is taut and ready to snap, like an elastic cord stretched beyond its limits, and Kakashi feels invisible tremors roiling in his muscles.

On the inside, Kakashi is a ticking time bomb.

On the outside, he is slouched against a wall, looking particularly disinterested in anything that is happening around him. Not that there is much going on. They locked him in a cell some hours ago – a hole the size of a broom closet dug into rocky soil – and haven't been back ever since. The walls are indiscernible under the plethora of intricate seals they've been covered with, and any exterior noise is muted by them.

He waits, patiently.

He doesn't move a muscle, despite the itch burning so hotly all over his skin, urging him to go, to run, to get back out there and search for Obito, even though Kakashi is well aware of the futility of such an action. Obito isn't in danger. He is still in Kamui, trudging around the place and awaiting the moment his chakra reserves are full enough to transport himself out of there. Kakashi logically knows this, though his instincts are screaming that something is wrong and he can't rid of the lingering impression that, while in Kamui's dimension, they were running – albeit slowly – from something.

A sharp exhale – his own – cuts through the all too silent air, and Kakashi closes his eyes in an effort to calm himself.

The words Obito has told him, perhaps too rash and full of the veiled pain which brews in the inextinguishable cinders of great loss, have opened a gaping chasm right in the middle of Kakashi's chest. It sucks greedily at his energy, like a hungry leech, slithering its cold tendrils around him, and it might be the only reason Kakashi hasn't exploded and broken out of his cell yet in a suicidal attempt at retrieving Obito – a plan which may involve the locating and the (brutal, if necessary) coercion of _another_ Kakashi Hatake.

What his counterpart is in this world, Kakashi could have never even dreamed of, not even in his most jarring nightmares – his nightmares, plagued by the faces of his precious people dying one by one, people who he had been too standoffish, too pigheaded, too stupid to acknowledge as what they meant to him until too late. He can't fathom what must be going through this other Kakashi's mind, how he can endure under the burden of not a few lives, but that of an entire world. But then again, he wouldn't be the first good soul to be corrupted. If even Obito, who had been a million times better, kinder, more deserving than Kakashi, could lose the glimmer of his eyes to nothing more than a forlorn darkness, could become a hatred-filled man striving to put an end to the world's misery with the Infinite Tsukuyomi, then Kakashi isn't much surprised about himself.

Although, maybe he should be. Only love turns into hatred, and Obito had been filled with it. Kakashi on the other hand... Well, Kakashi had had his own demons, but as he tries to remember now, he discovers that he can't really make sense of the disarray of emotions he had so masterfully quashed back then.

He hears footsteps and opens his eyes just as a face looks down through the thick iron bars which constitute the ceiling of his hold. It's Genma again.

He and Raidō have been the ones to apprehend Kakashi, only seconds after Kamui spat him out. They put a sack over his head and took him to this cell, not letting any sound past their lips, not interacting with anybody else, and taking misleading turns and looping around the same area more than once. Kakashi isn't called a genius for nothing. By the time they reached their destination, he had already constructed a rough mental map of the place. The rich smell of humid earth, the echo of his steps, and the way the cold air sticks to his skin are all sufficient indications of the vast subterranean cave they must be occupying. There is a heavy weight in his gut, lodged there by the grim suspicion of why they might choose to live in the depths of the Earth.

"It's your lucky day, Hatake," Genma announces, grinning slyly around the ever-present senbon in his mouth. "Obito's back, as it turns out you didn't murder him. Though I have to say I—"

Genma's voice fades out to background noise as all the tension which has wound up so tightly in Kakashi leaves his body instantaneously in a heavy exhale, and it feels as if the whole world had been holding its breath along with him.

 _Obito is fine_. It is concerning that Kakashi has only ever been in the presence of this Obito for a couple of hours and is already overwhelmed by the need to know him safe. But this is an Obito who has had every chance to be someone, unlike Kakashi's late teammate, and some invisible force is stirring up Kakashi's instincts to _protect_ , to make sure that this Obito will never, ever lose that chance.

As they were walking through Kamui, waiting for Obito to restore some of his chakra, Kakashi watched him with short and furtive glances and what he saw was the battle-hardened figure of a man who's lost too much. Despite that, Obito's eye burned with determination, with hope and with the Will of Fire that the Sandaime had so often tried to preach. Realization wrapped around Kakashi's heart like a cold fist, witnessing firsthand that Obito could have been more. _Much more_. If only life had been just a little less complicated and fate a little less indifferent. Unfortunately, as Kakashi has discovered and intimately come to know over the years, life is never simple, and fate is always uncaring and oftentimes unforgiving.

A mumbled "I'm sorry" escaped Kakashi's lips then.

Obito didn't even as much as glance his way, but his mouth set in a thin line before he said flatly, "What for."

And well, Kakashi isn't sure he himself knows what purpose those words had, just that they needed to be said. Was he apologizing for what his counterpart has done? Or for the fact that, despite coming from a different dimension, he still is _Kakashi Hatake_ – the same man as the one who has apparently brought so much misery and hardship to the people of this world? Or... Maybe he was just apologizing to Obito, for all that he could have been, but mostly for all that he was ultimately not.

It was then that Obito's face softened, almost imperceptibly, and he declared – still not looking at Kakashi –, "I want to believe you, Kakashi. And… I do, _I do_. Because when I see you, I see my old teammate, the one I gave my Sharingan to, even though he was a complete _jerk,_ by the way! And there's your eyes too, and the fact that you didn't know all Yamanakas are dead and, and— _Yeah_. So—" He exhaled sharply through his nose, and Kakashi could feel the frustration rolling off him. "—I may be an idiot for doing this, but just because I trust my instincts and buy your parallel universe crap, that doesn't mean for a second that I trust _you_. Alright?"

"Mhm," he hummed noncommittally, because he didn't really know what else he could say. There was only void when he searched for words, and while on a good day Kakashi can twist and color phrases so easily to work in his favor, can sweet talk even _Tenzō_ into paying for his meals, right then, in the presence of the man he has failed both in his world and in this one, Kakashi felt oddly lacking, unworthy of Obito's acceptance, in spite of how much he was craving it.

Someone pointedly clears their throat and Kakashi focuses back on Genma, who is watching him with an odd expression. Of course, the fact that Obito believes his story doesn't have much effect on the others, which is expected. He _could_ be a ploy used by Akatsuki, for all they know.

Traveling to a parallel universe is exceeding craziness, even for the world of ninjas.

"Don't worry, Genma," he cajoles, eyes curving into a smile. "I promise I'm not here to murder anyone."

If he savors, _just a tiny bit_ , how his old colleague – the infamous Genma who never loses his chill – seems ready to stab Kakashi with his senbon, then nobody needs to know.

"Alright, move it, Hatake."

He is hauled up, out of the dreadful hole playing at being a holding cell, and a sack is pulled over his head once again. Whether or not they realize it is useless, Kakashi isn't the one going to tell them. His only escort is Shiranui, though Kakashi is fairly convinced there are more shadows than just theirs following behind. Even so, with the chakra-suppressing seal placed right at the center of his nape, which hinders his nearly drained reserves from restoring themselves, and the chakra-wire binding his hands, Kakashi would have a difficult time escaping, even if he would want to.

They play the same game of walking and turning and going in circles, then they arrive at what Kakashi realizes as soon as the hood comes off, is a large tent with a round table in the middle and torches burning in each corner.

As soon as he can see again, Kakashi's eyes zero in on Obito, resting in a chair and sprawled with half his body over the table, head pillowed on his folded arms. When he notices their presence, Obito has the decency to sit up and tidy his unruly hair where it stuck to his face. There's exhaustion written all over him that Kakashi can easily read. Again, the mystery of Kamui sapping so much of Obito's chakra nags persistently at the corners of his mind.

"It's really you!"

It takes a moment for that loud voice to register, and when it does, Kakashi's head snaps in its direction. His eyes are almost unseeing as the image projected by some of his most distant memories overlaps the one right in front of him.

And yes, that's _Kushina_. If maybe a little older, her unique red hair looks unchanged and the gentleness of her features – even as she's frowning at him – evokes some type of unbridled emotion from the pits of his stomach.

He shouldn't be surprised, and he isn't per se, but disbelief ensnares him all the same, because this is a person that he has mourned alongside his sensei, though she never resided in his nightmares – those are reserved for Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei as they either perish by his hand or simply walk away to where Kakashi cannot follow. Kushina, on the other hand, is firmly bound to memories of warmth, and safety and _family._ So much unlike his old team, which principally brings about only the tormenting images of their final moments each time Kakashi remembers them.

"Stop gawking, idiot," Obito chides gruffly and appears next to the redhead.

The both of them are frowning and their guard is up, but underneath all of the defenses and caution, Kakashi can feel a tentative curiosity experimentally try to reach him.

If there are any appropriate words for moments like this, Kakashi doesn't have them. But Obito and Kushina are waiting for him to say something, it shows in their stance and in the way they're watching him, and Kakashi has yet to rein in the wild thumping of his heart and the rampant train of his thoughts.

"Kushina, you—" His eyes slide over her form, taking in the white mantle she's donned over her uniform. "are Hokage."

A vulpine smile stretches the corners of her mouth, even if the threatening tinge in her gaze doesn't wane. Kakashi sees, if only for a second, Naruto's face superimposed over Kushina's, their features perfectly aligned. And the hair or eye color may be Minato's, but in virtually every other aspect Naruto is a mini clone of his mother.

So Kushina is the Hokage, which can only mean one thing for Minato. Kakashi hadn't hoped, hadn't even consciously considered it, but it stings in a way that is all too familiar to ascertain that Sensei is gone from this world as well.

"Sit," Kushina commands, pointing at the table.

And that's her Hokage voice, authoritative and firm. Kakashi's years of experience at both taking and giving orders immediately pick up on the tone of her voice and his feet move almost automatically. He sinks down into a chair, his tired muscles quietly grateful, but he keeps his back straight and his eyes attentive.

"Now, Kakashi-kun, you are going to tell us _everything_ ," she coaxes, crossing her arms over her bosom, and tips her chin up in invitation. "Obito believes you, so I'm willing to listen. Speak."

Behind her, Obito holds himself out of this discussion, a silent observer brimming with contained interest. Genma posts himself as sentry next to Obito, and out of the three ninjas holding him under scrutiny, Shiranui is the most vigilant and the most adverse to trusting Kakashi's words so easily.

Kakashi isn't sure if such words even exist, that could convince these people to gift him their trust. His story, as much as it is true, seems inconceivable even to him.

But truth and honesty are always man's best friends in such situations, not that Kakashi would dare to lie – not to these people.

"The name's Hatake Kakashi, loyal Konohagakure Jōnin." His brows knit together as he thinks of a way to explain this. No matter how he puts it, the thing sounds too fantastic. "I was in the village when I went to sleep as usual, but then… I woke up on a battlefield among other shinobi, dead as I could tell, and this is when I encountered Obito and his team. Truthfully, I have no recollection of how I may have ended up there, though my chakra was substantially depleted."

A weighty silence hovers above them all, because none of them really know what to make of this. Kakashi is a potential threat, despite any visceral desire which may compel Obito or Kushina to believe otherwise, and words are not capable of undoing the tight knots of mistrust woven by this apparently evil, Akatsuki version of himself.

They regard him with apprehension, expressions schooled to impassivity.

"In Konoha you say?" And there's a wisp of sadness masked carefully in that remark. "How'd you know this was a different dimension?"

Kakashi has a myriad of answers to Kushina's question, but each of them brings a sour taste to his mouth.

_Because the war is over, but here not._

_Because Obito is dead, but here not._

_Because I'm a loyal shinobi, but here not._

"There are many differences between this world and mine. Some of them—" and while he says this, he does not submit to the searing urge of letting his gaze shift on Obito, "—were noticeable right away."

His voice is cool and collected, contrasting starkly to the tumult inside him. Kushina and Obito aren't the only ones with questions. There are so many things Kakashi himself would like to ask them, to listen and identify the points where their two worlds diverged so drastically. He wants to ask about Rin, about how Obito has broken free from Madara, about what happened with the Nine Tails' attack since Kushina is very much alive _and_ Hokage. Where is Naruto, then? And the rest of Kakashi's team?

In his dimension, Kakashi judges, the next day must have come just as it has here, and he wonders if they noticed his sudden disappearance. They probably did, and Kakashi can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing. On one hand, he doesn't want his team and comrades to panic – because he is _fine_ –, while on the other hand, Kakashi hopes that, maybe, they are _just a little bit_ panicked and working on a way to bring him back.

Of course, he is by means of reason perfectly aware of the slim chances that his comrades could even figure out what happened, let alone attempt to rescue him. Not that he needs to be rescued. He is, after all, no stranger to dealing with things on his own, even if teamwork is his most prized teaching.

And this is something he will have to work out alone.

_Or not._

"Kakashi, how can you prove to us that you're not lying?"

And that is exactly the problem, because he can't. Not on demand, not right now, not so easily.

"You told me the Yamanakas are all dead."

At this, Kushina turns with a cross expression towards Obito, who pales impossibly more than he already is. On his left, Genma chews on his senbon and raises a single eyebrow.

" _Obito_?" Kushina inquires, saccharine sweet.

"Heh, I—" He laughs nervously and his hands lift up defensively just as Kushina _bonks_ him over the head. "Ow! Hey, that hurt!"

"And that's for being a loudmouthed idiot!"

"It's not like he wouldn't already know if he was with the Akatsuki!"

Kushina blows air out of her nose and rubs tiredly at her eyes, then she's back at drilling holes into Kakashi.

"Yes," she confirms. "The Yamanakas have all been killed."

And there's a hidden accusation in her statement. Kakashi wonders if she's always subtly woven implications in her words, or if it's a newly acquired habit. In any case, the meaning doesn't fly unremarked past Kakashi.

"I can offer information about my world," he tries. "Even if this one is so different from mine, maybe I can help."

"But then again, there is no way to verify it. You could be lying to us, leading us on and straight into a trap."

"Kushina, maybe…" Obito intervenes. He is chewing intently on his lower lip and his stare is fixed on Kakashi. There are so many conflicting emotions visible as day in Obito's eye, because the Uchiha has always worn his heart on his sleeve. Kakashi has brought him insurmountable pain and loss, and for that Obito should hate him – no matter if he's from another world. Instead, Obito regards him as if the fault for Kakashi's failures rests on his shoulders alone. It's frightfully reminiscent of himself, Kakashi realizes and tries not to sink at once with the feeling in his stomach.

"Maybe we should listen to him… He really doesn't feel as if his intention is to harm. He doesn't even have my Sharingan."

_Because despite the unforgivable pain and loss, Obito doesn't want to give up on his comrade._

"You're too indulgent, Obito. I know you want to believe that's your old teammate right there, but you can't let this cloud your judgement. You're a shinobi, so act accordingly."

"Right." Obito grits his teeth, but Kushina's admonishment doesn't seem to deter the Uchiha from his conviction, because when Obito sets his heart on something, he can be as tenacious and unrelenting as Naruto. "But then explain to me who is he? He's not an enemy in a henge, he is Kakashi! Through and through. And he can't be _the_ Kakashi, to know that you only have to look at him once!"

Stubborn, foolish Obito. Too trusting, too ready to accept Kakashi for what he claims to be, even without proof for confirmation. Despite feeling oddly touched by the consideration Obito shows for him, Kakashi wants to sigh and slap him one over the head just as Kushina did.

Underneath the shell of a seasoned ninja, Kakashi notices hints of the child his teammate used to be— too loud and still confident, too trustful and still soft for the ones he considers comrades— and he fights the instinctive need to flee and wallow in his grief in front of the Memorial Stone, to the memory of a friend, because memories somehow hurt much less than being in Obito's presence.

Twice Obito has died for him and twice Kakashi has been crushed by an impossible guilt. A third time Obito stands in flesh and bone before him, and Kakashi hopelessly wants to run away, urged by the augury whispering deviously in his ear about how this time might end.

"They are right, Obito. You're offering your trust way too easily," Kakashi tells him.

Obito bristles and clenches his fists into the fabric of his pants, and it's almost as if they've been transported back to the days of Team 7.

"I said I _believe_ you, not _trust_ you, Bakakashi!"

Kakashi cocks an eyebrow and stares. "You're way too trusting, no matter."

"You should be more thankful, I'm your only ally here."

"Perhaps, but what if I really _was_ the enemy?"

"Boys!" Kushina cuts in, looking _pissed_. Her fists are raised and the air in her vicinity is charged with chakra which makes her hair float menacingly around her. "Stop that right now, you know!"

And both Obito and Kakashi end up with their skulls smashed in, both groaning and sulkily clutching at the smarting bump growing where Kushina's fists have hit.

From the side, Genma can be heard snickering lowly.

"Now." She exhales and the softness returns on her face, though she remains stoic. "I'm going to ask you some questions."

He nods, waiting for the continuation. They may not be aware of how much willing Kakashi is, even if he would like more than anything to have his own questions answered and to skip this undesired trip down the memory lane. But Kakashi can have the patience of a saint when he wants to, and this is a necessary step to finding his way back home. Maybe he can even help along the way.

And maybe Kakashi enjoys, though he doesn't fully understand it yet, spending even what little time he's got with these people, who are not his – but could be just the same. And maybe it's just a little less painful to look at this Obito and this Kushina, than it was to meet Obito in battle and see Minato reincarnated with Edo Tensei.

"I'm going to use a seal. Though it not always gives the most reliable results, it can basically tell us if you're lying. So, don't lie, Kakashi."

Fūinjustu is, after all, Kushina's specialty. She gestures vaguely to Genma, who understands what she wants without any apparent difficulties and nimbly disappears to the back of the tent, somewhere behind Kakashi. A few moments later, he returns with an ink brush and an inkstone - already full with the black liquid -, placing them down on the table. Out of Kakashi's reach, he notes.

"Thank you," Kushina says and reaches over for the stone mortar.

She dips a finger into the ink, infusing chakra into it in preparation for the seal, and then, with a satisfied look, she takes the brush and does the same, soaking the tip until the dark liquid softens the hairs enough for usage. When everything is prepared and ready, she carefully steps closer towards Kakashi, movements open as not to alarm him, and hesitates only for a second before placing a warm hand on his shoulder, the other one rising towards his throat. 

Only the many years of experience and the trust he bears for his sensei's wife keep him from flinching away in an attempt to shield his exposed throat from the other shinobi. The wet brush is cold when it makes contact with his warm skin, but the whole deal is over within seconds anyway.

With a pleased look, Kushina draws back and puts the brush back on the table, then quickly forms a series of hand-signs and places a palm over the tenketsu at the base of his throat, over the seal she has just drawn.

There's a brief spike of chakra, then a fuzzy warmth spreads towards the extremities of his body and his skin starts to tingle funnily. Though it's not unpleasant, the sensation makes Kakashi almost squirm in his seat.

"Alright. How do you feel?"

"Fine," he answers, while three pairs of eyes are observing keenly.

Kushina nods, looking pleased. "Good, good. We can begin then… I am asking you some questions, you just answer truthfully.

"Please state your name."

"Hatake Kakashi."

"Where does your loyalty stand?"

"I am loyal to the Hokage and to the village, Konohagakure."

A short pause follows, as if the three are expecting something. Of course, Kakashi is telling the truth, so nothing happens, even though he's not sure what the seal would do to him if he would lie.

"Well, that went better than expected," Kushina concedes at the same time as Obito victoriously announces, "Ha! I told you, I did!"

" _But,_ " she repeats emphatically, "like I've said, this technique isn't always the most dependable, _Obito-kun_."

"Right, I know."

With this, Obito settles back next to Genma. Kushina leans on her hands against the table and carries on with the interrogation.

Only basic queries, at first. About himself ( _"Your usual Konoha jōnin."_ ), about the state of their village ( _"Has seen better, there's peace now though."_ ), who is Hokage ( _"Lady Tsunade." – definitely not planning to pass on the hat to me_ ), the usual. It's inevitable that she will eventually hit topics that Kakashi would rather keep securely locked away, and for some reason she chooses perhaps one of the most painful.

"Tsunade-sama is the Hokage?" Kushina frowns. "Seventeen years ago... There was an incident with the Kyūbi. Minato... What happened to him?"

Later, when Kakashi finds himself prostrated on a cot in the tent shared between Obito, Genma, Raidō and now himself, he thinks back on the way Kushina's face hardened when she learned about the fate of her and her husband, or the desperate, but hopeful look when she quietly asked, " _Naruto?_ " and then the stubborn tears she was so obviously trying to repress welling up in her violet eyes as she listened to him say, " _Naruto is the hero who saved our world from peril._ "

Kakashi himself felt unstable, thrown off balance even sitting down, because Kushina's reaction could only mean one thing about this Naruto, and Kakashi refuses with every fiber in his body to accept that. He didn't ask, couldn't find it in himself, but Kushina dismissed them anyway, saying they'll pick up tomorrow with the rest of the questions and that Kakashi is partly excused and is to be kept under close observation.

**000**

He is alone with Obito. Genma and Raidō are somewhere outside — 'outside' turns out to be the inside of a massive cave, as he has already guessed; massive enough to fit perhaps the entirety of Konoha, but instead of concrete buildings, the whole space is an orderly pattern of neatly erected tents and torch-lit walkways.

The tent they occupy is just an indistinguishable one among the many.

The gloom has followed them all the way here, an unshakable curse which has accompanied Kakashi for as long as he can remember. His voice is muffled by the pillow when he questions, "What happened with Naruto?" He doesn't know if he _wants_ to know.

Obito, from where he's lying in a similar position across the room, huffs wearily. He hesitates, if only briefly, before apparently deciding he wouldn't be giving away state secrets.

"On the night of his birth, someone tried to extract Kyūbi from Kushina, just like you've explained. It attacked the village and Minato-sensei was the one to stop it. He… He sealed half of its chakra in Naruto and half in Kushina. This may be the only reason she's survived. I mean, she was in a coma for _months_ following that. Baby Naruto… He just— He just disappeared, just like that. When help arrived, they found Minato and Kushina dead on the ground – well, almost dead in Kushina's case – but baby Naruto was just… Just gone."

"Gone?" There's something heavy and cold, like dread, lodging itself into Kakashi's bones.

"We never found him again. After Kushina recovered she was… Well, you can imagine. She searched everywhere, never gave up on him. I haven't either. That night I…" His voice turns sour, caustic and even though Kakashi can't see as they are positioned now, he can envision the self directed hatred on Obito's face. "I couldn't fight, my limbs they— and I— I just, just wish I could've done more, would've done more."

"It's not your fault, Obito," Kakashi tells him, despite knowing empty consolations like this have no real effect. "But… Do you know who did it?"

He feels like a fraud just by asking this, when the answer is already very clear to him, but there's one thread of hope which hasn't been severed yet and it obstinately pushes Kakashi _to make sure_.

And while Obito's silence may leave room for interpretation, it is telling enough.


	3. purple stripes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! I’m sorry for having taken this long to update, but what I plan from now on is at least a chapter a week! 
> 
> A HUGE thank you to everyone who has supported this story. I endlessly appreciate each comment or kudo or subscription and everything!

* * *

**000**

_Deep into the heart of the Land of Fire…_

A shadow dislodges itself from the darkness of the night, gliding inside a candle-lit room through an open window, and stalks nimbly towards the man working with concentration behind a desk.

"Sir." The shadow bows its head in greeting. "We have located the target at the hideout of the Allied Forces."

The man stills, midway through a neat brush-stroke of black ink, then carefully resumes his movement. His lone, uncovered eye is focused on the intricately designed seal coming into existence under the steady ministrations of his fingers.

After another moment, he puts the brush aside and looks up at the other.

"Well, if that isn't great news." His eye curves into a smile, but the dark fabric mask pulled over half of his face hinders any attempt at ascertaining its genuineness. "Contact Hawk. I want daily reports on the target's status. We will not engage until I give the order, but send word to my team to be prepared."

"Hai!"

"One more thing, Tenzō," the man says before the shadow can slip away into the night. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "Can I trust you with a mission? Highly classified, just between the two of us."

"Of course, senpai," Tenzō answers and listens attentively to what information is imparted.

* * *

**000**

Kakashi reads the silence out loud. "Then I am the one who released the Kyūbi and kidnapped baby Naruto."

The words taste bitter and alien in his mouth, and Kakashi has to put conscious effort into reminding himself that he and his counterpart are, despite everything, not one and the same person.

From across the tent Obito hesitates, a frown bleeding into his voice. "Look, Kakashi, many things happened back then, and we are still in the dark about maybe half of them, but… You and Naruto both disappeared that night. I think it's only logical that most would assume you did these things."

"…And so I did," he echoes bleakly.

They fall silent after that, both too exhausted to take up a conversation as draining as this one would eventually turn out to be – if not already is.

Long hours pass before Kakashi is taken in the warm embrace of sleep, and even then only lightly. He keeps still and tries to put some order in his thoughts, ignoring his primal instincts roaring under the heavy gazes of Obito, Genma and Raidō, who take turns keeping an eye on him. And it is not like Kakashi is expecting anything less – trust is, after all, a difficult thing to win – but there is an unspoken rule among shinobi that one can’t rest if one is being watched. It’s all just deeply ingrained conditioning and years of survival in a world of predators, really.

Years fraught with tension and finally the war have taken a toll on him, much more than he would care to admit. What he needs is a breather – it is bad enough already that Tsunade plans to pass on the Hokage hat to him, soon – but this whole turn of events has taken away any chance of that long-desired repose.

Perhaps Kakashi _is_ getting old…

For a brief second he entertains the idea of seeking Gai out – listening to incessant speeches about Youth may do him some good – but the thought is shunned away fast enough for Kakashi to pretend it never even crossed his mind.

Without a moon to soar on the sky, or a sun to warm up the horizon, time seems frozen to a standstill. Kakashi waits. The morning arrives crawling sinfully slow towards them.

* * *

**000**

Kakashi hasn't used his Sukea guise in a long time. Even before that, the occasions have been few and far between, mostly undercover operations or just him messing around with his genin team. Those had been good times, before everything had gradually become worse. He remembers fondly how one of the times Team Seven and the rest of Konoha's rookies had worked together, impressively well, all of them united under the purpose of exposing the secret of his face.

In truth, Kakashi has lived most of his life hiding behind his mask, perhaps both literally and figuratively. The only times it isn't covering his face are when he is either showering or eating, and perhaps this is the reason why divesting himself of it feels so strange, now and each time he has to do so.

But a mission is a mission, after all.

And this is how he is treating the situation. Kushina is one hundred percent correct – if Kakashi Hatake, no matter leader of the Akatsuki or unfortunate dimension traveler, were to crop up in the middle of the Allied Forces' hideaway, the ensuing panic and ruckus would undoubtedly shake the very ground they stand on.

Raidō had been away for hours in the morning, gone to find the necessary items for Kakashi's disguise, since Kakashi's possessions at the moment consist of nothing but the sleeping pants and shirt he had woken up in on that battlefield. He isn't wearing Sukea's trademark clothes either, those being a bit more difficult to come across in this makeshift shelter of theirs hidden deep in this cave, instead having borrowed a pair of sandals and the standard uniform pants and long-sleeve shirt from Obito.

The missing flack jacket, gloves and the lack of weapon pouches leave him feeling rather out of place, almost as much as letting go of his mask does, but it is a necessary sacrifice, he supposes. 

The brown wig, green contact lenses and purple make-up transform him into another person entirely, even more so when nobody other than his ninken has ever seen his bare face. No person alive, that is. Only his father, Minato-sensei and Rin – just one time, when he had taken a notably nasty blow to his jaw – had the chance to witness what truth is covered by the mask. Since then, since becoming _Cold-Blooded_ Kakashi, _Friend-Kille_ r Kakashi, even medical-nins have barely chanced a look underneath. Of course, as Sukea plenty have seen what may as well be Konoha's most guarded secret. Not that they will ever know.

So, after only one moment of hesitation, Kakashi dredges up his resolve and steps out from behind the curtain which is dividing the tent into sleeping and storing spaces, into full view of the group of three awaiting ninjas.

His eyes curve into a smile, which can now be noticed on his lips as well, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head.

"Well, you may call me Sukea," he says in a pitch higher and softer than what his voice would normally sound like.

Genma, the bastard, whistles lowly and smirks around his senbon. "Is that what you've been hiding, Hatake?"

"Suddenly you don't want to kill him anymore?" Raidō elbows his friend in the side and nods at the copy-nin. "Nice look, Kakashi."

Ever so slowly, their apprehensive front begins to melt, giving way to the usual demeanor Kakashi has become familiar with in his two comrades. Despite knowing better than to be tricked by this misleading sense of comfort they pretend to be offering, it eases some of his unrest, the whole situation considered. Still, a sort of vulnerability creeps into his chest, something he has seldom experienced and doesn't particularly enjoy, because showing his face as Sukea is in every way different than showing his face as Sukea and having people know he is actually Kakashi Hatake.

"Well, it's not much, but thanks," he tells Raidō, then his eyes fall on the figure standing on Genma's other side, by the flaming torch which is planted into the floor.

Something in his heart tightens when he notices the stiff posture of his old teammate. The glowing flame is casting jagged shadows across Obito's scarred face, and the haunted look in his eye pierces through the frail semblance of control under which Kakashi has barely managed to bring his emotions. Kakashi's smile wilts, a frown replacing it.

The other two have also seemingly noticed, turning concerned glances on their friend.

"Obito?" Raidō asks, worriedly. The Uchiha doesn't answer.

With an involuntary gesture, Kakashi brings a hand to his face and feels the thin stripes of purple under his eyes. Obito traces his movement and tenses as if on cue. Suddenly, Kakashi understands his friends' reaction and the coil in his heart becomes so impossibly taut that it almost feels like pieces of it are breaking.

His mouth opens, but only an inaudible breath slips past. For all his genius, Kakashi feels so incredibly stupid sometimes. He mentally kicks himself for being this mindless and swallows dryly around the familiar guilt stuffing his throat.

With considerable effort, he forces the words out of his mouth. "Can you give us a moment?" He doesn't break eye contact with Obito, but Genma and Raidō catch on, and with two shoulder squeezes for Obito and a pointed look at Kakashi, they retire outside.

"I'm sorry," he whispers when they are alone, dropping his gaze to his feet. "I didn't think…"

A breathless huff, almost an impression of a laughter, cuts through the air. "Never thought I'd hear that from you." Obito's voice is low, distracted.

"There's always a first time, I suppose… Obito… I will take them off and use something else. I'm sorry."

"No, wait, Kakashi—" Obito shakes his head, the dejected expression turning softer on his face. "Wait. You don't have to change them. I… You just took me by surprise." His mouth stretches into a strained smile. "That's all."

He clearly did more than just take him by surprise. Rin is – has always been – Obito's fragile point, his Achilles' heel. The broken man Obito had become in Kakashi's world is proof enough, and there's a growing unease nagging at the edge of his thoughts when he wonders what fate their third teammate has succumbed to in this dimension.

The memory of Rin's warm blood rapidly cooling on his arm or her last, choked _Kakashi_ , will be forever etched into his brain, a painful reminder of broken promises, shattered hearts and the rotten reality of the world they live in. Time heals all wounds, they say, but when he thinks about what has helped alleviate the ache brought about by the dire times of his childhood and adolescence, he can only see his team — his comrades, his friends, his _family_.

Despite himself, Kakashi is unwillingly driven by a morbid curiosity. The scales tip and he asks, ignoring the haze which has settled over his mind and the sickness rising from his stomach, "…What happened with her?"

 _Did I kill her?_ he almost says.

Obito's face scrunches up as if in pain and his eye falls distractedly on the purple markings on Kakashi's cheeks. "Rin…" His voice is gentle when he utters her name.

The guilt eats away at each of Kakashi's nerves, leaving behind the cold, numbing sensation of hollowness.

With a deep, ragged breath, Obito tells him. "It was the night that I returned to Konoha and I… I was _so damn late_ , as always," he spits out through gritted teeth. He clenches his fists so hard that, for a second, Kakashi thinks he is going to hit something, but Obito just carries on strenuously. "I don't know what you know, what happened in your world, but here some Kiri-nins had sealed the Sanbi inside her. When she arrived in the village, the seal gave out and the Sanbi attacked Konoha… We fought and won, but Rin didn't —" Obito swallows his last word and hastily turns away from Kakashi, hiding his face from sight. "You were supposed to be with her, you know," he adds raspily.

 _And how much better that turned out_ , Kakashi thinks grimly and Obito's anguish reflects on his own uncovered face. He can't tell if he's relieved that it wasn't him who took her life or unnerved by the possibility of Kiri's plan almost coming to fruition, but Rin's death feels eviscerating just the same.

And where was he, anyway, if not by Rin's side? The promise Kakashi had made seems to be just as broken in both worlds, and once again he feels like the scum Obito had had every right to name him.

He waits silently, not finding his words, for Obito to calm down. After another minute, the Uchiha wipes his tears away and inhales deeply. "Yeah. I'm trying to stick to the shinobi don't cry rule… mostly."

"Maa, not to worry." He waves a hand dismissively. "Everyone needs to shed a tear or two sometimes."

A reticent smile ghosts Obito's lips, as he is slowly easing back into a more sedate spirit. "I'm adding that to the list of things I'd never thought I'd hear you say. Huh. How the tables have turned…"

"Yeah… We have both changed a lot."

And how young they had been, only children thrown into the blood-thirsty jaws of war. Perhaps too young for the tragic endings which awaited them, but so are the lives of shinobi – lightning fast and governed by tragedy. You either accept it, or crumble under the pressure. Only the skies know how many times Kakashi has come a hairsbreadth away from doing so.

"What about your world? I gather that Rin hasn't…" Obito doesn't finish, grinds his teeth before the last word can escape.

Kakashi was anticipating the question, but his heart still stutters in his chest. He would have rather completely avoided talking about their team's disastrous demise. Retelling Kushina the events of the Kyūbi's attack and later finding out that his counterpart is the supposed kidnaper of Naruto has already greedily sapped whatever pools of emotional energy he has.

Unfortunately, Kakashi knows it is impossible to avoid this topic forever – however painful it may be.

"Seems like our stories have a little in common."

He buries his hands in his pockets, a dark cloud hovering above him as he prepares to recount his story. His eyes meet Obito's, just for a fraction of a second, then he settles on watching the dancing flame of the torch, burning an uncanny orange.

"I was with Rin on that mission and… Kiri still got her. They used a faulty seal to trap the Sanbi in her, but I found them before they could complete the ritual and helped her escape. We were heading for Konoha, but Rin sensed something amiss and she…"

He hesitates, if only briefly, before making up his mind – only the truth to this Obito. He is ready to accept anything Obito will throw at him, be it hate or anger or disgust. If his voice is a little breathless, that's alright. Kakashi has had years of living and reliving that dreadful memory, and while what he has just told Obito about shinobi and crying may be valid, his words sound rather empty and resigned as soon as they are out of his mouth.

"She threw herself in front of my Chidori when we were fighting off the Kiri-nins following us. I couldn't… I couldn't protect her… I'm sorry."

A short, pained exhale draws Kakashi's gaze back to Obito, despite himself. The Uchiha stares at him with one wide, watery eye and a gaping mouth.

"You—" Obito tries, but his voice cracks before he can say more.

Kakashi looks away, shame and disgust mixing dangerously with the image of Rin's unseeing eyes and bleeding mouth as she takes her final breath. His right hand is burning in his pocket, and there is no leather glove to stop him when he clenches his fist and digs nails into skin until his palm is slick with blood.

For a while, neither of them dares to say a thing, the air oppressive and heavy. The words echo darkly around them, just like Obito's had, the night before, when he told Kakashi the truth about Naruto.

Kakashi could stay like this for hours, lost in the darkest places of his memories, allowing these adamantly repressed feelings to rake their claws through him, unbridled. But it is not the time, nor the place to break down – despite how much he would want to disappear to the Memorial Stone or to the graveyard and let the frozen touch of death remind him of his mistakes and of his promises. So, Kakashi does what he does best – pushes the feelings aside, locks them away in the dungeons of his heart, and stumbles forwards.

Obito, apparently, does the same.

"I made a promise to Rin. And I have every intention of keeping it," he announces resolutely. "I will find a way to finally put an end to the misery of this world. I know we can create our peace."

The words are achingly familiar, in a way that is both twisted and right.

" _As long as it doesn't involve an Infinite Tsukuyomi_ ," Kakashi mutters drily under his breath, then louder, with a thin smile that pathetically tries to hide the ache in his chest — “Go for it, Obito… Just try not to stumble over your own feet.”

“…Fuck you.” Obito reproaches, but nonetheless, Kakashi’s smile is returned on the Uchiha's face in the form of a crooked grin.

The air around them is suddenly lighter and Kakashi feels like he can finally breathe normally again.

"Alright, Kakashi, let's see what we can do about you in this case. Kushina-nee will be waiting for us soon and we’ll hear the rest of your story. Until then I guess… We _could_ walk around for a bit.

"But don't get too cocky, baka. You are on probation," Obito warns with a finger pointed in Kakashi's direction. "Don't forget."

Naturally, all of them – the ones aware: Kushina, the trio and probably some Anbu – are on the lookout for Kakashi's intentions now that they've offered him a semblance of liberty and credence. And while some may fall for the false sense of security they are trying to coddle him into, Kakashi is, just like them, a seasoned ninja.

So, he nods curtly at Obito and follows him outside, into the perpetual darkness of the cave. Its cool air fills his lungs, the earthy, damp smell more intense here than inside the tent.

He has caught no more than a glimpse of the cave, when they brought him to the tent after the meeting with the Hokage, but now it stretches impossibly wider and taller than what Kakashi has initially figured. His eyes carefully scan the place, though his body language doesn't change in its disinterested veneer.

People – shinobi and civilians alike – mill around the streets as if the glow of the torches is enough to make up for the bright, warm caress of the sun. They are at ease with their situation, enough to make Kakashi realize that a good period of time has passed since they started living like this.

Raidō walks up to them as soon as they step outside.

"Obito, you and I have to report to Hokage-sama immediately. She has a mission for us."

The Uchiha turns towards Kakashi, then his eye briefly finds Genma casually leaning against one of the tall metal poles upholding torches.

"What about them?" He asks, narrowing his eye.

"Genma will look after Sukea-san for a bit. We will continue with his interrogation after we've completed our mission."

"Alright." Obito draws in a deep breath. "Don't do anything stupid, _Sukea_. I'm seriously putting my trust in you. And you— Shiranui. _Don’t kill him_."

With that said, the two shinobi take off on the street, heading for the Hokage's tent. Kakashi follows them with his gaze until they disappear from sight, lost in between the mingling people and the rising tents.

* * *

**000**

Getting saddled with Genma for a babysitter shouldn’t have been half bad, but the man follows him around with crossed arms and judgmental eyes. Luckily, Kakashi is an expert at acting oblivious and ignoring people – quietly he mourns the lack of his beloved book, but he spends the time observing their surroundings with unfeigned interest instead.

The rock floor has been leveled and smoothed out, supporting a plentitude of expressionless tents – though they vary in form and size, Kakashi soon notices. They may all be gray, but there is a thought-out orderliness in the way they are arranged – sleeping quarters of shinobi here and of civilians there, towards the margins, a business sector closer to the center, and that’s about all Kakashi has seen so far.

Each of the ninjas they encounter as they stroll along the many streets cutting through the arrangement of tents is wearing the Shinobi Alliance’s hitai-ate, though all of them are exclusively Konoha-nins. He frowns at that, remembering the battlefield he woke up on – there had definitely been a more diverse crowd – and he files away the question, for later.

"So…" he drawls, despite enjoying the silence – unfortunately, information can be acquired through simple observation only to an extent. "Why live underground?"

Genma flicks his senbon and shrugs. "You've seen it already. There are those so called 'chakra storms'. If you're lucky enough to get caught in one, you die, so the Akatsuki uses them to regulate who can and cannot live outside."

"And there are no people left above the ground?"

"Nah, there are some," Genma says, beckoning Kakashi towards a large tent with a nod of the head.

The flaps are open, tied to the sides, and tables with people come into view as the two of them approach. Most of them are shinobi, familiar faces from a Konoha of another world, and Genma greets them as they enter. Kakashi saunters after him, shoulders slouched and lazy air. The ninjas watch him like birds of prey, though in a way that is much subtler, proper for a shinobi. He is a new face, a foreign figure appearing in their midst, and there's no doubt whether their distrustful natures are instantly ignited.

A part of him wonders just how much he should edge into his usual mannerism, if the change of appearance is enough to deter any suspicions or if any of these people would know to pick up on the smallest of details and link him to his counterpart. Would they be knowledgeable enough about this other Kakashi’s behavior to make any connection between the two of them? Or, more importantly, does Kakashi even resemble, in any way, his counterpart?

He would venture to say no, but a shinobi knows to keep their options open – never rule out the impossible, even if it’s tempting. Either way, as long as there is no blatant display of skill or outrageous habits such as reading Icha Icha in public, he should be safe slipping a little into his persona.

So, he too salutes the onlooking ninjas, with two raised fingers and a smile.

The two of them settle for a small table in one of the far corners of the place. There are many ears turned in their direction, even if nobody seems to be overtly paying them any heed. Both Kakashi and Genma are well aware, so Shiranui discretely activates a privacy barrier between themselves and the rest – any uninvited auditor should only hear muffled, unintelligible bits and pieces of conversation for now.

Two cups and a flask of warm sake are put in front of them not even a full minute later – on the house, Genma explains and orders another round.

"Isn't it a bit too early for alcohol?" Kakashi titters with a trace of incredulity.

Genma snorts and downs one cup. "Look around, Sukea-san. I don't see a sun telling me it's too damn early."

A fair point.

Kakashi fiddles with his cup, abstractedly brushing his thumb on the smooth white ceramic. He wouldn't call himself a big fan of alcohol, much less when he finds himself in an unfamiliar environment – it numbs the senses in a way his paranoid ex-Anbu self can’t acquiesce to. He doubts Genma is thinking on much different lines, probably only trying to make Kakashi believe he is letting his guard down, if anything.

Not that Kakashi would believe that; not when he knows too well the games of his comrade.

“We were in ANBU together for a short while,” Genma states casually, reading between the lines of Kakashi’s reticence. “Me and Hatake, I mean.”

Kakashi has figured.

“For me it’s been a little longer.”

“How long?”

“Ten years of service,” Kakashi offers. “We’ve been part of the same team at some point too.”

Genma’s eyebrows shoot up, before his expression hardens in what can only be dead realization that Kakashi most likely knows him better than the tokujō is comfortable with at this point in their relationship.

“Well, damn.” Genma recovers his chill quickly, smirking around his senbon the next moment. “We might as well be brothers in arms, eh?” His features become ever so slightly tighter, sharper. “Still means you have to earn our trust. Obito can be obtuse like that sometimes, but that’s alright – he’s got Raidō and me looking out for him.”

The threat is received loud and clear on Kakashi’s end. He wonders for a second how the three of them became so close. Back in the academy, Genma and Obito hadn’t been particularly friendly to each other, and neither later as genin or chūnin. Raidō even less, considering he is older and had never interacted with the Uchiha as far as Kakashi is aware.

But then again, he reminds himself, this is a drastically different world.

They drink the entire flask of sake in silence, then they are waiting for the second.

"The Akatsuki have designed special villages, protected from the storms," Genma says after a while, following up on Kakashi's earlier question. "You either choose to obey their rules, or die. The Allied Forces have tried to offer the people a refuge, and here we are."

"That's their objective?... Do you know anything about Madara Uchiha?"

Genma looks at him quizzically. "Other than what the history books say? Not really. What about him?"

Kakashi frowns. With Obito loyal to Konoha, he would’ve thought people would be aware of Madara’s scheme, one way or another. What is Madara doing in this world, then? If anything, Obito is proof that the madman has tried, at least in some way, to carry out his Eye of the Moon Plan, and the chakra Kakashi felt in that so called 'chakra storm' was very much similar to the Jūbi's. And above anything else, Kuro Zetsu would never abandon his goals, unless he was dead, of course. Kakashi finds that hard to believe.

"I'm starting to think our two worlds are very different," he confesses and brings the sake cup to his mouth, fighting the instinctual impulse to pull down his now-absent mask.

Steadily approaching steps draw their attention to two figures just crossing their privacy barrier. Kakashi stares at them in recognition, a wave of dawning realization coldly washing over him. 

“Shiranui-san,” Itachi Uchiha greets with politeness, then turns towards Kakashi and bows his head slightly. “Itachi Uchiha.”

“Sukea,” Kakashi introduces himself and smiles warmly.

Behind Itachi, Sasuke stands with arms crossed over his chest in his usual frigid manner, holding himself aloof from their conversation. Still, when Kakashi looks up at him, Sasuke has already fixed him with a stare.


	4. yawning darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. 
> 
> I'm very sorry about the delay and I think at this point I should stop promising regular updates, though I won’t give up trying just yet.
> 
> I want to thank all of you for the amazing, amazing support you've showed for this story! I really love you guys. And I'm aware I haven't gotten around to respond to all the comments, but I promise I've read every single last one of them and I really appreciate what each of you has to say. I promise I will answer them as soon as I can.
> 
> Now, onto the story... Please, enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. I have lightly edited the previous chapters. Nothing important, except the added description of what Kakashi is wearing now, but I lightly touch that point in this chapter t00, so you don't have to read back.

**000**

Sasuke – distinctively lacking his newly acquired Rinnegan – holds his gaze for less than a couple of seconds, perhaps, and the brief exchange of glances could very well be written off as nothing more than what it seemingly is – a brief exchange of glances – if not for the intensity in the Uchiha’s eyes. It unsettles Kakashi in a way he can’t exactly pin down, but at this point in life he knows better than to ignore his instincts.

And well, this Sasuke may be just as a hard nut to crack as a certain reformed nuke-nin who is currently residing in one of Konoha’s most secure holding cells, but Kakashi resolves to get to the bottom of it somehow.

“Itachi-kun, Sasuke-kun,” Genma greets back in that cheerful, laid-back manner of his. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Why don’t you join us for a cup of sake? Or perhaps some dango?”

At that, Kakashi resists the urge to raise an eyebrow. The chakra-suppressing seal begins to burn as he is suddenly reminded of its presence. There aren’t many shinobi who could see through it, but asking two with the Sharingan to join their table seems like an outright invitation at being discovered.

It might be exactly what Genma intends, Kakashi realizes with a start.

Instead of letting his confusion show on his bare face, he smiles sweetly—that soft, benign smile he has spent hours perfecting in front the mirror; the one that is everything Sukea and nothing Kakashi.

“The more, the merrier,” he jests and raises his own cup of sake to show for it, before gulping the liquid down in one go.

The alcohol is hot as it slides down his esophagus, soon settling in his empty stomach, and he can feel the skin on his face and neck heating up in a flush, but it is exactly what he wants. Genma was not entirely wrong in choosing sake as a way to try to make Kakashi lower his guard and Itachi and Sasuke may not – probably will not – fall for it either, but Kakashi believes it makes for an interesting display of vulnerability.

He makes a point of observing the two Uchiha brothers’ reactions.

“Of course. We can join, if only for a short time,” Itachi says, surprisingly complacent with the idea of spending his time at leisure instead of training or studying.

Sasuke is not as agreeable as his older brother, but his only protest is a short huff.

They sit down at the small square table, opposite from each other, and now Kakashi is sure the two of them are in on whatever Genma’s plan is. It wouldn’t be surprising if they already knew his real identity too, though he can’t decide if that’s true yet.

While they wait for the server to come back with their order, Genma and Itachi exchange a few quick words about missions. Nothing too revealing, only that the numbers have gone up lately and it doesn’t allow for much time for catching up with old comrades, but then Sasuke – who has kept mum so far – butts in with something that stops Genma mid-sentence, makes Itachi’s eyes narrow and decidedly piques Kakashi’s interest.

“They won’t let up until the revolt in the East Sector is quashed.” Sasuke meets, in turns, Itachi’s and Genma’s almost admonishing looks – and Kakashi is now certain this was a deliberate slip of information, one that most definitely wasn’t part of their initial plan – and then settles his eyes on Kakashi, as if wanting to elicit a reaction. “You aren’t a shinobi from Konoha. Sukea, was it?”

 _Ah, so right to the core of the problem._

He can’t say for certain what their strategy had been, but he is sure his cute little genin – neither so cute, nor so little anymore, and perhaps not even exactly his, though Kakashi is happy to disregard the technicalities of it – has just put a spoke in their wheels.

He laughs Sukea’s gentle laughter, but meets Sasuke’s stare head on, tapping a finger suggestively to his bare forehead. “Mhm, I might not be a shinobi at all… Sasuke, was it?”

“I don’t think uprisings and the like fall in Sukea-san’s range of interests, Sasuke-kun,” Genma’s voice takes on an edge to it, but doesn’t mention Sasuke’s remark on Sukea’s status as a ninja or his relationship to the village.

They _undeniably_ know; it becomes clear now. They might be playing good cop, bad cop with him, playing him into a corner to see how well he can keep up his guise when confronted; another test to gauge his intentions, perhaps. But… Itachi and Genma reacted too naturally, caught off-guard at Sasuke’s comment, which has most definitely met its purpose—Kakashi is, despite himself, curios.

Still, he finds it a little difficult to pinpoint what exactly each of them is after, continuing to stare into Sasuke’s black irises in answer to the young adult’s provocation.

And well, Sasuke has never been one to do things by halves. Maybe his slip was never part of their plan, but the young Uchiha’s methods for achieving his goals have never been the most orthodox. Kakashi knows that very well and he thinks Itachi and Genma should know that too.

It is another couple of seconds before Sasuke breaks eye contact, but is immediately caught in his brother’s almost-glare— _almost_ because Itachi’s range of displayed emotion spans between politely neutral and politely neutral with a flavor of dangerous. Anything more and Kakashi wouldn’t believe the person sitting on his right is the Uchiha genius, alternate dimension or not.

The tension which has quickly settled among the four of them skyrockets. The two brothers seem only seconds away from flaring their Sharingan at each other and Kakashi is hit with the realization that, despite being together and loyal to Konoha, Itachi and Sasuke may not be as close as he would’ve initially thought. Not as close as the Itachi who sacrificed everything for his brother and the Sasuke who had sworn vengeance on Konoha for the pain it had caused Itachi.

Is this really what would have come of the two brothers, had Itachi not slaughtered his clan? The latter an educated guess on Kakashi’s part, because he isn’t yet sure what has actually happened to the problematic clan in this world.

“There you go, sirs.” A woman’s voice cuts through the tense silence which they had fallen into, placing a tray with their order on the table. “Please, enjoy!”

The tight atmosphere shatters like ice.

Both Itachi and Sasuke look away from each other and down at the tray of food and reach to pick up what each of them has ordered—dango and green tea for Itachi, sake for Sasuke.

Genma chews on his senbon, visibly relieved at the interruption. Regretting his choice of strategy, perhaps, though Kakashi doubts it was Genma himself who came up with it. Something that could jeopardize Sukea’s identity, which is to remain secret as per the Hokage’s orders, has to be a plan the Hokage has approved of, if not something she herself commissioned.

“Maybe,” Kakashi starts carefully, eyes falling for a second on the way Itachi’s hand is steadily stirring his tea, and brings the small ceramic cup of sake to his mouth, though he doesn’t drink from it yet, “I could concede to not being from around here.”

Three pairs of eyes latch on him.

“And if that were the case?” Itachi asks, equally careful.

The fragrant, vaporous scent of the warm sake clings to his nostrils as he takes his time with it. “Well, I would hope my visit here will take no longer than necessary. But I’m afraid I don’t know what _necessary_ would entail in that case. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” Itachi agrees.

Sasuke scoffs. “Should we be speaking hypothetically at this point?”

“I’m sure Genma-san could answer that.” Kakashi finally sips from the beverage, watching the man in question from under his lashes.

With a long-suffering sigh, Genma takes the senbon out of his mouth and begins lazily playing with it between his fingers.

“Itachi and Sasuke are here on behalf of Lady Hokage,” he admits at last. “Though we never counted on you knowing us so well, I guess.”

“That much I figured.” And, of course, that would explain the situation, but there still is something nagging at his thoughts. “I suppose you know the entire story about me, then?”

The two brothers nod, almost in unison, but they don’t visibly let down their guard. He wouldn’t expect anything less, either way. Both Itachi and Sasuke are shinobi who take their duty and their responsibilities seriously, sometimes in ways many others would fail—he tries not to think about a thirteen years old Uchiha ANBU who had been forced between Scylla and Charybdis, or about a twelve years old genin who went chasing after revenge in places no one should ever look for. 

He looks between the two of them, both wearing Konoha’s standard uniforms with the Uchiha crest proudly displayed on the right shoulder of their shirts, and an odd sense of relief floods him.

Because these are two people who haven’t suffered under the same terrible fate as the two brothers of his world have. 

“If we can speak openly, then I would like to ask you again, Sukea-san, what are your thoughts?”

Kakashi considers Itachi’s question for a moment, propping his elbows on the table and leaning his chin on his interlaced hands. 

“Like I said, finding a way back to my world is my priority, though it seems... rather difficult at the moment.” 

He doesn’t think impossible, because that would mean giving up without even trying. 

“You don’t know what happened.” The older Uchiha phrases his words like a statement, but speaks them like a question—something Kakashi remembers him doing even all those years ago, when Itachi had been a rookie Anbu on his team.

“Not a clue,” he sighs, knowing too well that the hours spent searching for answers after waking up in this world have amounted to nothing more than some wispy explanations and hypotheses. “I’m thinking something along the lines of a space-time jutsu, a summoning seal maybe.”

“A summoning seal?” Genma asks, face pinching at the implications. “I don’t really like the sound of that.”

Itachi nods slowly. “It is plausible. Before finding the how, though, the why is more important. Who would want to and why.”

Unsurprisingly, his words are met with deep silence, no doubt the direction in which their thoughts are racing, before Sasuke, who had been observing quietly, huffs with contempt that easily speaks for each of their feelings. 

“ _Tsk_. Are we really going to pretend we don’t already know?” 

“Maa, maa, the obvious answer may not always be the correct one. Always look underneath the underneath, hasn’t your sensei taught you that?” _Probably not_ , considering said sensei is a world-class nuke-nin and leader of a criminal organization. He wonders _who_ was Sasuke’s jōnin sensei in that case. “But... From what I gather, you might not be entirely wrong.” 

None of them look very happy with that prospect and Kakashi can’t blame them. If his counterpart is indeed behind this incident, he can’t imagine anything good that will come of it—neither for him, nor for these people.

“We can’t ignore other possibilities,” Itachi supplies. “Someone other than Hatake or someone from your world sending you here. Of course, there is always the possibility that you did this yourself, in which case you can’t be trusted.”

There is, isn’t it? Kakashi can’t imagine a world where he would do something like that on purpose.

“Trust me or not,” he says, “the best thing right now would be to find a way to send me back.”

Kakashi can’t wish for anything else right now. Only thoughts of a home left behind intrude on his mind, of a world barely recovering from the after-effects of a devastating war, of a promise that he intends on keeping – despite how much he would like the opposite –, of a team and of a student rotting away in prison.

And yes—he can’t wish for anything else right now other than going home, but… Finding himself here, in a world where the blame for all these atrocities falls on nobody’s shoulders but his, he fears departing may be more difficult than just figuring out his way back.

Because if he’s to blame, then he isn’t sure he could he really just up and leave, washing his hands of all what this world has become in his wake without crumbling under the crushing guilt.

“If you are who you say you are,” Itachi says, set on drilling deep into Kakashi in pursuit of answers. “What is the Akatsuki of your world doing?”

With a stifled sigh, he straightens his back and lets his hands fall gently at his sides. He pushes down the unease threatening to creep up into his chest, gathering his thoughts in order. Answers might be all Kakashi has to offer and he tries to delude himself into thinking that answers are enough to lift that weight weakening his resolve off his heart.

Around the table, the three shinobi are watching him with intent, obviously interested in his answer. 

“Well, there isn’t an _Akatsuki_ anymore, technically.” He pauses briefly, taking in the slight surprised air settling among the others. “Since all the members have been killed already.”

“Killed?” Genma whistles quietly and fails to hide the glint in his eyes at hearing this.

The conversation with Kushina the other day had been fairly short, considering that the question of Naruto had arisen early into his interrogation and thus ended the whole business without delving into other serious topics.

On either of his sides, the two brothers seem to be mulling over this possibility.

“As for their plans,” Kakashi continues, staring for a second at Itachi’s unscratched hitai-ate. He searches for the best way to turn a rather long and complex plot into a brief explanation, “Well, that is quite a long story. How should I put it… in short, the Akatsuki was covertly controlled by one Madara Uchiha, who planned on using a ‘supreme’ genjutsu to put the world to sleep. In turn, Madara had also been manipulated by a creature, Black Zetsu, and perhaps you’re already familiar with him. Zetsu’s goal was to restore the power of his mother, Ōtsutsuki Kaguya, also known as the Mother of Chakra, and put an end to the world as we know it.

“The Akatsuki’s own, original goal was peace, though,” he finishes, remembering Pain, Obito and even Madara. However twisted their perception of it was, peace is still what they had all been after, Kakashi can’t deny them that.

If he were to follow his hunch, he wouldn’t imagine the Akatsuki of this world being too far-off in their ambitions. 

“I… see. And you claim that your world is still in one piece? If true, that is quite impressive,” Itachi admits, a hint of awe almost breaking through his phlegmatic front. “We need a list with the members and a more detailed recounting of the events and the plans of the organization. Are you willing to contribute?”

He nods slowly, thinking he had already made his intentions clear on that point. Then he thinks about giving them a list containing names such as _Itachi Uchiha_ , _Obito Uchiha_ and _Sasuke Uchiha,_ and he can’t entirely smother the grimace on his face.

“Is there a problem?” Itachi asks, noticing his less dignified reaction to his own thoughts.

“Ah, you know,” he breathes out a sheepish laugh, “it’s nothing.” He smiles at him, deciding it’s better to just hand over the list and let them live through a mini existential crisis of their own when the time comes.

“Very well.” Itachi gracefully rises to his feet. “I will report to Hokage-sama now. Genma-san, as soon as Lady Kushina is available, she will send word to you to bring over Sukea-san.”

“You got it, Itachi-kun.”

Sasuke doesn’t give any hint of planning to leave along with his brother, leaning back in his chair and drinking from his sake cup unhurriedly. 

With one last sweep of his eyes over the three of them, the older Uchiha walks away.

The dango and the green tea he had ordered lay untouched.

With Itachi gone, and thus the ‘secret’ mission officially ended, they all sink into a rather suffocating silence. Kakashi’s muscle memory is almost making him twitch, urging him to miraculously pull out a book and bury his nose behind the pages, if only to escape the slight uncertainty rising in the air.

It was rare that he didn’t have an available escape route from awkward situations, and he is reminded yet again that, despite the relaxed setting provided by the tavern and the numerous cups of sake on their table, he is still a prisoner with no freedom.

He leans heavily with his cheek on one of his hands, careful not to mess up his make-up, and watches the other occupants of the bar.

For the whole hour they’ve been here, Kakashi has yet to hear a heartfelt laughter or see someone engaged in a good-humored conversation. They don’t appear to be the most carefree of people, all looking more sullen than anything else.

Adding to the faces he saw while strolling around before coming here, he gets the feeling that this is the general rule around the place.

Perhaps he was rather fooled in his first impressions—that ease these people seemed to exhibit in spite of their predicament turns out to be more akin to resignation at a closer look.

The thought of uprisings and turmoil among shinobi and civilians finds its way to the forefront of his mind. Sasuke had hit the nail on the head by mentioning that, even though it wasn’t the most strategic move in terms of preserving Konoha’s secrets, considering Kakashi could have truly been an enemy.

With a quick glance at his cute genin, Kakashi finds himself eye to eye with the young Uchiha, pinned again under his cold stare.

“I get the feeling there’s something you want to tell me, Sasuke.”

The Uchiha slowly sits up straight in his chair and narrows his eyes as if preparing to attack. Kakashi has only an instant to brace himself for when it’s coming.

“What are you going to do, if you can’t go back to where you came from?” Sasuke asks coldly—emotionless in a different way than how a regular shinobi would aim for impassivity.

His question is a worst-case scenario that Kakashi hasn’t so far considered. He will have to, eventually, but only if he will have sweat blood and exhausted each and every possible jutsu and seal in this upside-down world trying. He would like to believe in his chances first, even though by nature he can’t ignore any of the possible outcomes, however ruthless they may be.

A crude hint of a smile appears on Sasuke’s face and he closes his eyes for a moment, the spinning, blood-red Sharingan burning into Kakashi the moment he opens them again.

“If you’re thinking about affiliating Konoha—” Sasuke leans forward into the table, the temperature around him dropping by a degree or two “—or any of the hidden villages, you will be faced with an unpleasant realization. You may have to get used to your new face, if you see a future for yourself in this place and, even so, where would you go, if everybody closed their doors for you?”

Kakashi furrows his brows, hairs rising at the dark feeling Sasuke is projecting, before forcing his facial muscles to relax into a smile that isn’t as genuine as it would appear to be. Deep down, still, he finds himself unsettled by Sasuke’s view of the future.

“If that were the case, I’d like to think I could prove my loyalty somehow. I speak from experience when I say even the hardest of hearts can be swayed, and even if I’m not that worthy of a person, by any means, I will try my best.”

“I’m just trying to make clear what exactly the village is willing to do to assure its safety. It’s nothing personal, Sukea.”

“ _Ahem_.” Genma clears his throat, staring incredulously at Sasuke until the young ninja heaves a sigh and the oppressive air around him simmers down. “I think it’s time for us to go,” the tokujō says with a weight that is usually lacking in his easy-going manner.

Kakashi, for one, struggles to understand where Sasuke’s coming from, knowing that he is not as much of a bad person as he is struggling to do what’s right in his own way. Of course, his troubled student sure's had his _days_ , but Kakashi is mostly grateful that his own brat back at home has finally come to his senses. He feels his entire being protesting at the prospect of having to deal with Sasuke’s less than pleasant side, _again_.

“Good, I’m done here,” Sasuke announces and gets up, Genma and Kakashi following shortly after.

His eyes fall on a sakura blossom painted ceramic on one of the tables in their vicinity and he suddenly remembers a question he has been meaning to ask since the first moment he saw the young Uchiha walking towards them.

He should ask now, before Genma dissolves the privacy seal keeping up the barrier between them and the rest of tavern’s occupants, but his resolve wavers, because… does he really want to know?

And then Sasuke is heading towards the exit and Kakashi should be ashamed of the relief he feels. He _is_ ashamed. That’s why he hurries after his former student as he weaves through the conglomeration of vacant and occupied tables on his way out of the large tent-turned-bar, steeling himself for the moment they reach the outside.

On the street, the whole atmosphere is different. The ceiling high above is a pool of darkness, a yawning chasm with no end, ready to swallow them whole. Unlike the warmth of the firelit torches which had flickered peacefully inside the tent, the fire burning on the poles lining the wide path makes the darkness above seem even darker, suffocating even.

He almost misses that moment too, stopping short at the sudden overwhelming immensity of the cavern and the rush of cold air on his naked face, but—

“Sasuke, wait a moment.” Kakashi puts a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder just as he is about to turn to go, feeling the boy’s muscles coil under his touch as if preparing to strike. He makes sure that even though his mask is not in place, none of his feelings show on his face, pushing everything under a gentle smile.

Next to him, Genma, who trailed after them like an owner to an unpredictable puppy, twitches in reaction to his sudden movement, visibly curbing his impulse when Kakashi’s intentions are sure not to be anything nefarious, then settles on watching their interaction with curiosity.

The Uchiha stops, looking at Kakashi sidelong, and then shrugs off his grip on him with a short, brusque movement. A raised eyebrow is Kakashi’s only indication to say what he wants to say.

Pushing through the disquiet in his chest stirred by the Uchiha only moments ago, he asks. “You don’t happen to know a certain pink-haired kunoichi?” He observes the other’s expression for any telling reactions. When there is no flash of recognition on Sasuke’s pale face, he tries again, deep down afraid of the answer he will get. “She should be around your age; her name is Sakura.”

A long, blank stare is the only reaction he gets. “I’ve never heard of her,” Sasuke says, causing something tight in Kakashi’s chest to snap and leave a smarting bruise in its wake. “Why?”

“Ah, you see…” he tries for a lighter tone, even though to his own ears it sounds more breathless and dismayed than anything else. “I used to be her jōnin sensei. I suppose I wanted to check on how she’s doing around here.”

Sasuke frowns, just a small, little crease between his eyebrows, before shrugging. “I don’t know her.”

With all that being said, he walks away.

Kakashi stares after him, but somehow the sight is not wholly registering.

He feels a swelling panic of sorts, the type he has only experienced a handful of times in his life and many, many years ago sworn to never let himself feel again, though it wouldn’t be the first time Kakashi has broken an oath—and if he thinks well enough about it, he had been doomed years ago, when he had smiled sweetly – phonily – at three innocent little genin, telling them in spite of everything in him screaming to turn around and run away before too late, _‘you passed’_.

 _But these people are not **your** family,_ he tries to remind himself. His Sakura, his Naruto, his Sasuke—they are all fine, better than fine even. They are safe in Konoha. They are waiting for him, panicking most likely – and he doesn’t wince at the thought of how they would turn Konoha and the rest of the world upside down searching for him.

But if these so painfully familiar figures aren’t his, then why can’t he stop the icy fear trickling through his veins at the thought of any harm happening to them? He doesn’t need to ponder for too long, because deep in his heart he instantly knows why.

“You were a jōnin sensei?” He hears Genma say somewhere next to him, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He takes a deep calming breath. There is no point in reading too much into it, because he knows full well where that pitch-black abyss will take him if he were to take the leap.

“Huh,” Genma hums in wonder, squinting his eyes at Kakashi as if he’s assessing the number of enemy traps laying ahead. They both start walking down the street, heading nowhere.

With no other option, he strolls side by side with the other, his head preoccupied with trying to figure out if it’s possible that Sasuke and Sakura have just never met instead of the grim turn his thoughts have taken. He isn’t sure if always thinking the worst is a good or a bad habit, but well—being optimistic has never really been his forte.

After a minute, Genma continues. “I wouldn’t have said. You don’t strike me as the sensei type, to be honest.”

“Well,” Kakashi laughs sheepishly, all the times he has failed as a teacher like a dead weight behind his smile, but there isn’t much else he could add except asking him the same thing about Sakura.

“You don’t happen to know her – the girl Sakura –, do you?”

“No. You seem really attached to your genin, though.”

Kakashi closes his eyes for a moment, wishing away the disappointment which falls over him like a heavy blanket.

“I am,” he admits next, because he is too old, long past denying something like this about his most precious people. And he knows this is exactly why he can’t help worrying about them in this world too, because no matter where, his precious people are still _his_. Even when they aren’t.

“Anyone else on your team that you want to ask about?”

“Not really. I already know.” He thinks about Naruto disappearing as a baby, and he thinks about the Sasuke drinking sake at the tavern next to his older brother. “One of them, we’ve just met. And the other one… Well, you were there when I told Kushina the story about Naruto.”

With an incredulous laughter, Genma whips his head around to stare directly at him. When he understands that Kakashi is, indeed, serious, he can’t quite contain the surprise breaking through on his expression.

“Let me get this straight. Hokage-sama’s child… He is the one who saved your world… And you were his sensei? Sasuke’s too?”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, aware how Obito’s clothes hang a little loose on him. It would have been better if he could have worn Sukea’s trademark outfit, but in such a short time, in a place like this, there hadn’t been many alternatives.

“Yes,” he says, ignoring the way Genma’s eyes narrow as if he’s suddenly pondering how night can turn to day without a sun to rise, and barrages forwards with a thought he finally gives voice to. “I need to get back as fast as possible to my world, and I was wondering… Since Kushina is a fūin master, we might find a way to send me back sooner. I don't believe you'll give me access to the library, but you can have someone research instead. I think... it would be better for everyone if I'd leave.”

The surprise quickly drains away from Genma’s face now that Kakashi presents him with more pressing matters.

“I can’t tell you anything about that. For now, I hope it is clear that you are not allowed to go _anywhere_. Not until it is decided what needs to be done with you.”

A cold breeze sweeps over the barren street, upsetting the light of the torches into a furious dance. He isn’t sure if he entirely imagines the ominous twist in Genma’s voice.

He tries his best not to let his mind wander to underground operations and transactions brokered in the shadows, used to gain the upper hand in tight situations, but he doesn't doubt the extent to which some are willing to go to safeguard the entity of the village. Unlike the Konoha he seeks his way back to, he is of no importance to these people, a mere shadow of what he could've been had he not strayed on the wrong path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of Obito:(
> 
> Stay safe, guys!


	5. the summons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, yay. And it's almost twice the length of the previous ones. I also have the feeling this chapter is a bit filler-ish? I hope it’s still enjoyable, either way.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely support! <3

000

The clock on the table reads 530. It’s early, but Kakashi sits up on his bed and rubs tiredly at his eyes, knowing he won’t be able to fall back asleep even if he wanted to. His heart is thumping in his chest and there’s a lingering feeling of anxiety stuck under his skin which makes him frown as the last traces of his nightmare fade away. He can’t remember what it was, but this is the third night in a row of waking up in cold sweat. He grits his teeth tightly, he doesn’t want to remember, and looks around the room. Empty. The three other beds are made neatly, untouched as they’ve been for days now, and he wonders how long they are going to keep him here, confined to an empty tent. Genma didn’t mention anything when he dropped Kakashi off at the tent almost a week ago, after the alleged success of their outing at the bar, disappearing without an explanation and putting two invisible ANBU guards on watch for Kakashi before leaving. Kushina hasn’t yet requested his presence, like she had said she would, and none of his three guardians – Obito, Genma, Raidō – have showed up even once in all the time he’s been here.

As he’s gotten used to over the past few days, Kakashi stands up and walks over to the back end of the tent, where the divider – a curtain made of the same gray tarp as the rest of the tent and parted in the middle – separates the small living and sleeping area from the even smaller storage space behind it. There is a built-in toilet there, a rudimentary wooden box the size of a cupboard with a hole in the floor that drops down a half a dozen feet into some groundwater of sorts, and a copper pipe with a downturned end and a valve playing at being a faucet right next to it. He swings open the door to the toilet and takes care of his business inside, barely fitting in the cramped space and trying not to be too disgusted at the idea of polluting the phreatic zone where the waste is most likely falling. When he is done, he washes his hands under the feeble stream of ice-cold water pouring from the faucet, thankful that the water here is clean and most likely coming from a different place than the one he’s just taken a piss in. He takes his time brushing his teeth, washing his face. There is days-old stubble on his face, rough and abrasive when he runs a hand over his cheeks and chin, but there weren’t any razors with the rest of the toiletries he’s been given; the reason for that is glaring, anyway. It is the same reason why the tent was half-empty of any belongings when he returned from the bar a week ago, all the books and weapons and anything that could’ve helped him escape sealed safely away in a wooden crate that rests heavily on the top shelf here in the storage room.

Back in the main area, Kakashi sits down on his cot, folding his legs under him and placing his palms on his knees in the typical position he uses for meditation. It had been one of the core training exercises for ANBU operatives, and he’s used it more times than he can count over the past two decades. It offers – and requires – a type of clear-cut unwavering concentration, a tricky descent into nothingness that either purges your thoughts or presents you with laser-sharp focus. He inhales deeply, once, counting to himself before letting the air out slowly. He closes his eyes and repeats the exercise until he becomes desensitized to the coarse linen under his skin, to the damp and earthy smell of the cave, to the sound of the burning torch, to the image of the drab gray tarp painted amber by the glowing flame. The seal on the back of his nape burns hotly as it becomes the sole target of Kakashi’s attention.

“Sukea-san,” the ANBU calls his name – not his real one, even though his two guards are aware of his identity – and so end the quiet moments of his meditation.

Kakashi takes a few seconds before opening his eyes. It is always a little difficult to return into himself after meditating, but the years of wars and threats hidden even in the cracks in the walls leave him no choice but to always have a part of him attuned to his surroundings, even when he bans away all conscious thought.

He scans the room. The only indication that time has passed is the clock now reading 1000 and the slight stiffness in his muscles. At the foot of his bed the ANBU stands straight, shoulders squared in perfect display of discipline and control. Their codename is Starling; it doesn’t ring any bells and Kakashi doesn’t recognize the person hiding behind the ornate mask, but they’ve been treating him fairly. Both ANBU have, though he hasn’t interacted with the other one so far. They are unbending, clinical – yes – but he feels no ill intent from them, even though they know who he is, who his counterpart is.

“Ah, good morning, Starling-san,” he greets and stretches out, chasing away the soreness of four hours frozen in place. The ANBU always comes like clockwork; 10 in the morning to bring him breakfast and today is no exception. They move around his bed and place a bowl on the only table in the room. Kakashi follows, even though he isn’t particularly hungry, sitting down in the chair and staring down at yet another portion of lukewarm porridge. His mouth twitches, having been served only water porridge for every meal in the past seven days, but he doesn’t protest when he is handed a spoon and finally digs into the food. Bland and tasteless just like every other time. Behind him, Starling waits quietly for him to finish eating. They do that for every meal, watch him as he takes mouthful after mouthful – twice a day, since he’s served only breakfast and dinner. The silence in the tent is suddenly filled with the sounds of metal cutlery clinking against the ceramic dish as he starts eating, and Kakashi is done too fast, inhaling the food rapidly even if his mask is gone and with it the reason for his usual haste. He takes great care to go and wash the bowl at the faucet in the back, having learned his lesson after a harsh scolding on the first day when Starling very sternly announced they were not Kakashi’s maid and that he should know clean up after himself.

“Thank you,” he tells the ANBU as he hands back the bowl, but instead of slinking back into the shadows and out of sight, they remain firmly in place in front of him.

“You have been summoned by Lady Hokage later today,” they announce in a monotone voice, slightly distorted by the mask. “Please, do not forget to don your disguise before you are escorted to Hokage-sama’s tent. Someone will come by and take you there at the correct time.”

Both excitement and dread rush through him at the same time when he hears Starling’s words. He bites lightly on his tongue and responds promptly, despite his thoughts shooting abruptly in all directions. “Understood. I have a request, if possible.”

Starling doesn’t reply, but they don’t leave either and Kakashi takes this as his cue to continue with what he wants to say. “I suppose there is no chance you’ll give me a razor?” He scratches at his stubble for emphasis, only then realizing how itchy and uncomfortable it actually feels.

“I’ll see what I can do,” says Starling before melting into the floor, the tent empty once again.

With nothing to do but prepare for his summons before the Hokage, Kakashi goes into the storage space and drags a wide metal basin under the faucet, leaving it there while it fills with water. From one of the shelves he grabs a bar of soap and a loofah, as well as a towel and some clean clothes, bringing them over and placing them on the table in the main room.

The thought of having to undress and wash himself with the freezing water is daunting. He’s already done it once, some days ago, and he can still feel the cold in his bones. When he drags the basin, now heavy with water, into the main room, he sits himself in the chair and eyeballs the icy liquid miserably. It would have been so simple to heat it up with a basic Katōn. With a muttered curse to the chakra-suppressing seal on his nape and a deep, resigned breath, he strips off his shirt and chucks it onto his bed, shivering lightly when the cool air makes contact with his heated skin. He cleans himself in sections; his hair first, leaning above the basin and using a small cup to pour water over his head, then lathering the soap through it and rinsing it off in the same manner as quickly as he can. The temperature of the water is glacial, his scalp feeling numb and a headache pounding under his skull by the time he is done with his hair. Even the air in the room, not exactly warm to begin with, feels hot now. He rubs at his wet hair with a towel, wrapping it around his head before he continues on to clean the rest of his body, hurrying to finish and be done with the hell that washing himself is. 

He is pulling on a pair of clean pants when the flap of the tent comes open and somebody steps inside. He instantly looks up at the entrance, hand stalling where it was grabbing the shirt from the table, and sees Obito halting as soon as the flap falls closed behind him.

“Obito,” he says, surprised. He wasn’t expecting to see the Uchiha and a week of isolation has almost twisted reality in such a way that Kakashi could’ve pretended he imagined that his late teammate was alive. Still, having Obito right there in front of him makes something in Kakashi’s chest lurch unpleasantly. It shows just how much he’s still affected by him, especially now that there’s a flesh and blood personification of the remorse he’d barely and not yet entirely let go after the war standing not even twenty feet away from him. And, alongside that, there’s a whisper of relief as well, buried underneath mountains of regret, though fervent enough to thaw some of the icy distress crawling under his skin.

For a fraction of a second Obito doesn’t move, as if he were just as affected by Kakashi’s presence as Kakashi is by his. Perhaps Obito sees a ghost when he looks at Kakashi, too. It’s not improbable, but it makes Kakashi suddenly want to reach out and say something, anything to shut off the gnarly mouth of guilt and regret lurking behind them, ready to swallow them up with each step they unwillingly take towards it. The words die in his throat, though, unformed and unspoken, because he finds he doesn’t know what they could possibly be anyway.

It is Obito who saves him the pain of spewing out words of pity, of consolation – is that what he meant to tell him? – when the Uchiha lets his eye travel down from Kakashi’s face to the rest of his body, taking in the full picture of what he was doing. The way Obito’s eyebrow shoots up before he schools his expression into a mildly annoyed scowl is amusing enough to push memories of ghosts and self-pity to the back of Kakashi’s mind.

“Didn’t Sterling tell you to be ready?!” Obito asks with the same mild irritation in his voice.

“Good day to you, too,” Kakashi drawls, putting on the shirt and finally feeling some warmth return to his body, though he feels as if his very bones have turned to ice after washing himself with the freezing water. “I’ll be done quickly, there’s no need to fret about it.”

Another second passes in which Obito just stares at him, though he looks a tad more murderous than surprised this time around. “Hurry up, then, we’re going to be late,” he growls and comes to sit on his bed.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow, but holds his tongue while he goes in the storage room to take the purple paint and the other cosmetics he needs for Sukea’s disguise.

“Are you really the person to scold me for being late?” he teases when he returns with a handful of the things he needs, and the jab comes naturally to him. Even with his back to Obito, as he places the objects on the table and takes a seat, Kakashi can practically imagine the displeased expression he makes at the remark.

“Shut up,” Obito scoffs. Then, after a beat, he adds indignantly, “I haven’t been late in decades, you know. So yeah, I could very well be the person to tell you off.”

There’s an unnamed tension that Obito’s words bring about in Kakashi’s chest. His hands curl into fists over the table; that gnarly maw bares its teeth at him in wait. He ignores it, forcing down the sensation of guilt and reaching over for the brush and the tiny tin of purple paint.

“What are you even doing? With your prissy attitude I thought you’d be running out the door the moment you’d heard the summons from Kushina,” Obito continues, somehow both bemused and peeved at the same time.

There’s a rustle of fabric behind him, and Kakashi glances over his shoulder, where Obito has laid down in the bed and crossed his arms under his head. His face, though, is turned towards Kakashi. His thin eyebrow is furrowed almost pensively, and his eye meets Kakashi’s in that brief moment when the copy-nin looks over.

“ _What?_ ” Obito snaps when he notices the way Kakashi has lazily raised a brow at him.

“Prissy?” he repeats, the word rolling from his lips with amusement. “Maa, I wouldn’t use that as my go-to characterization.” He turns back to face the table and cosmetics, leaving a brief pause before his next words, not for the theatrical effect they may have, but because he feels a split-second of hesitation. “I believe my students like to call me a lazy pervert.”

A snort so loud it could wake up the dead resounds from behind him, followed by a peal of laughter that makes something wriggle in his gut almost achingly in its unexpected warmth. A thrill of sorts, that overshadows all the regret poking its head around him. His arms are heavy on the table, benumbed by this new sensation, and his eyes are a fraction wider. It seems impossible in that moment to even try to dip the brush into the paint and raise it to his face. The way Obito laughs is so rich, so easy and so different from the twisted caws of his counterpart that are burned into Kakashi’s memory for eternity, along with that stomach-churning dread and horror he’d felt when the mask came off. Obito’s laughter is raucous, a lot like in the days of Team Minato, and Kakashi has the alarming realization that he had forgotten what it sounded like. A blitz of panic makes his heart skip a beat when he thinks he’s forgotten Rin’s and Sensei’s too; the joyful ones from before they lost—before he was given the Sharingan.

“No fucking way,” Obito wheezes. “Are you serious?”

“Well, that’s what they like to call me, at least. I never said…”

“Lazy _and_ perverted? I must have missed something because the last time I saw you—” he stops abruptly, as if burned. Kakashi doesn’t dare peek behind him. When Obito speaks again, his voice is more subdued, less mirthful than a second ago. “You were so pressed about the rules and regulations. Even in those few months after… after Rin, before you—before your counterpart disappeared, you were… I don’t know. I guess you had already changed, a little bit, but…” he trails off like he doesn’t know how to continue. Like he doesn’t want to, even. The sound of Obito rubbing at skin is clear in the silence of the tent - Kakashi envisions the way he’s running a hand over his face – and the clink of the tin against the wood is harsh when Kakashi drops it back onto the table.

He bites his lip, his sharp canine almost piercing through the soft skin, but he stops before that can happen. Instead, he pushes back into his chair and casts his eyes on his lap where he lets his hands rest. The trickle he felt hearing Obito’s laughter is gone, leaving a strange emptiness in its stead. It’s like it didn’t last long enough, and the reality of who they are hits all the more violently now that it’s over. There’s no way Kakashi deserves even that short moment of contentment. He can’t figure out why Obito would allow himself to be so at ease around him—it’s been two decades and they hadn’t really been the best of friends before it all started falling apart, so why… why would Obito try to defend him, why would he want to be around him at all? And sure, there’s anger, there’s regret when his old teammate looks at him, but all of it pales when compared to Obito’s readiness to accept him. Because that’s what it is. It’s not really kindness, not really tolerance, just a subconscious part of Obito that somehow seems to cling to Kakashi and disregard every vile thing he may signify—as a man of this world, and otherwise. Kakashi can feel it, radiating off Obito even under the huffs of annoyance and the guilt-stricken expression that crosses his face in moments such as this one. It’s almost a palpable thing, and Kakashi could take it in his hand if he wanted to, maybe. Though as aware as he may be, he feels like he wouldn’t know what to do with it even if he wished to.

“Oh!” exclaims Obito so suddenly that Kakashi jumps under his skin. It’s only his training that keeps him from jolting outwardly in a way that would be profoundly embarrassing for a ninja. Kakashi twists around so he can watch the Uchiha inquisitively as he drags himself out of bed and takes the five short steps which separated him from Kakashi’s spot at the table. His eye gleams a little sheepishly and he cracks a crooked smile down at Kakashi, one hand absently scratching at his nape while the other hovers hesitantly over one of the weapon pouches at his belt. “I just remembered, Starling said you wanted to shave,” he explains, gaze drifting over Kakashi’s face as if assessing the unkempt state of his stubble.

The Uchiha is so close now, an arm’s distance between them, however Kakashi’s only level with his abdomen since he’s sitting down and has to crane his neck to peer up at Obito. The fact that he’s not wearing his mask makes Kakashi feel odd, naked under the minute inspection of Obito’s dark eye. He presses his lips together and resists the urge to glance away, following Obito’s gaze with his own, defiantly.

“Well?” he says, forcing a chuckle when Obito seems lost for a moment, just staring at him. “Are you going to give me a razor or are you standing there just for the thrill of it?”

Obito’s eye snaps sharply away from him, darting over to the few things on the table and down to his weapon pouch, hand finally pushing inside. “Yeah,” he breathes and swallows thickly, visible to Kakashi only due to their proximity. “You look like an old man with that shit on your face,” Obito grumbles and only glances back at Kakashi when his hand comes out of the pouch holding a sharpened kunai.

Still, when he extends his hand and waits for Obito to pass him the knife, the Uchiha only wraps his fist tighter around the hilt and pulls it away from him, holding it at distance from Kakashi’s awaiting palm.

“I’m really not supposed to be handing you weapons,” Obito clarifies, even though he frowns at Kakashi as if he has a hard time processing the situation himself.

“Understandable, but how are you planning on doing this then? Hold my hand while I’m doing it?” Kakashi jokes the last bit, dryly.

The vexed expression that passes over Obito barely has time to register before it is replaced with a slight stretch at the corners of his mouth – more embarrassed than amused – and he avoids looking at Kakashi straight on.

“Fuck you, I’m not going to hold your hand,” he still manages to snipe back, then adds slowly with a diffident inflection to his voice, “I’m supposed to shave you myself?” He pauses, scrunching his face up apologetically in the short moment of quiet. “That’s what they told me.”

Kakashi sighs deeply, not exactly surprised, but a little bit concerned at Obito’s jittery attitude and the spectacular way he fails at hiding it.

“Maa, maa, I won’t try to kill you – or anyone – if you give me the kunai, Obito,” he says in a bored tone. It’s worth a shot, anyway. “You, on the other hand, might slit my throat on accident with the way your hands are shaking right now.”

“They’re not shaking, you bastard,” Obito defends. And they weren’t, really, at first, but now Obito’s whole body seems to be quivering with waxing anger. Annoyance forks its way across his face and he balls his fists tightly, bringing them down at his sides – kunai included –, completely disregarding the short distance between him and Kakashi, which compels the copy-nin to lean to the side in order to avoid the sharp tip of the weapon.

He clears his throat and pointedly looks at the offensive object, drawing Obito’s attention to it. The Uchiha immediately pulls back his hand, glaring down at Kakashi when he reads the heavily implied ‘ _I told you so_ ’ in his expression. 

“Your fault,” the Uchiha grits out before taking a deep breath and fixing Kakashi with a stern gaze. “You have two options: one, you let me shave you, and two, you don’t shave at all. Your choice.”

Kakashi only juts his chin out and smiles broadly; that teasing, deceptively innocent smile which turns his eyes into crescents. Apparently, Obito gets the message, because he scoffs derisively, saying, “Whatever, don’t move. I’ll go get the things.” And so, he pulls back and disappears behind the divider for a minute.

With him gone, air rushes back to Kakashi, as if it had been blocked from reaching him by Obito’s body standing so close. In his absence, Kakashi can’t help but think about how effortlessly they slip into that dynamic they used to have when they were younger, even when the conversation was ridden with guilt and despondent memories, it was as if a switch flipped and those gloomy feelings became nothing more than a bad dream hanging behind them.

Obito returns carrying a towel, a bowl of water and a tin of shaving cream. He circles around Kakashi to get to the table and puts the items down with a slapdash motion that makes Kakashi cringe slightly, taking a step back next and crossing his arms over his chest. The kunai is still safely tucked in his grip.

“You can apply the cream yourself,” Obito tells him, a hint of irritation still audible in his voice, and Kakashi does as he’s told, scooping up a generous amount of the mint-scented lubricant and spreading it evenly over his stubble-covered skin, wiping down his hands on the towel to rid of the excess when he’s done.

Obito gives him a once-over, his brow furrowed in the aftermath of a glower, and with a last warning look, he peels the glove off his left hand, biting the tip of a finger and pulling off the fabric with his teeth, then dropping it on the table, carelessly. The glove covering his right hand stays on, hiding the entirety of his replacement arm together with the long sleeve of his shirt. It’s hard to miss how he tries to let not even an inch of the deathly white tissue show, and Kakashi knows better than to mention it. He waits instead, pulse growing rapid when the space between them becomes scant with the two steps Obito takes towards him. He can’t remember a time when they’d deliberately stood so close without intending jump at each other’s throats, but although he is well aware Obito means no harm, he can’t help the way his eyes lock automatically on the kunai held in Obito’s gloved hand as the Uchiha begins lifting it towards him. With every inch swiftly swallowed by the nearing weapon he feels his breath shorten, something primal igniting in his gut at the sight of the weapon threatening to touch him.

Obito must somehow sense his apprehension; perhaps reads it in the way Kakashi clenches his jaw and breathes sharply through his nose when the weapon draws nearer his face. It can’t be helped, the reaction is instinctual, written in his genetic code from the moment he was born, like an integral feature for the death governed years to come. And Obito stops, doesn’t go through with the movement, like he understands precisely what it is that Kakashi feels in that moment. He doesn’t say a word, merely waits for the long exhale spilling from Kakashi’s lips like a catalyst after a couple of moments. Kakashi is silently grateful, eyes flitting upwards on Obito’s expression and meeting his questioning gaze.

“You can go on,” Kakashi’s voice comes out only just above a whisper, and only now that the silence is broken does he realize how quiet everything was.

“Alright,” Obito whispers back, then clears his throat and the next thing he says thunders in Kakashi’s ears, even though it’s spoken in regular volume. “Try to be still.”

Obito raises the kunai slowly, giving Kakashi plenty of time to brace for the moment when the blade will touch him, but he still doesn’t fully succeed in containing the twitch of his muscles and the way his whole body tenses when the cool metal grazes over his cheek. Thankfully, Obito seems perfectly focused and he is heedful not to allow the kunai’s razor-sharp edge to slice open his flesh, waiting another moment until Kakashi forces the tension out of his body and only then beginning to shave off the hair with more deliberate strokes. He works steadily and efficiently, none of the nervousness Kakashi teased him about present about him, gliding the kunai deftly down over his jaw and rinsing the excess cream and hairs off the blade in the water bowl once every stroke.

Kakashi relaxes gradually, bringing his racing pulse under control and evening his breaths. What he does is close his eyes, listening to the rhythmic scraping sound of the blade and feeling the drag and the burn of it on his skin. Obito’s other hand, although ungloved, never once touches him. He breathes through his nose, the mint aroma of the cream overwhelming any other scent around him, and tries to focus on that instead of the knowledge that he’s allowing someone into his personal space, willingly, and with a weapon in their hand on top of that. He tries not to think about the heat rolling off Obito in waves each time he shifts, and the way his own frozen body seems to want to suck in all of that warmth. His shoulders drop minutely, relaxed, and he leans forward, just an inch.

“Stay still,” Obito snaps, though he lacks the usual bite from his tone, concentrated on the task at hand.

Kakashi cracks open an eyelid for a second, just in time to catch Obito roll his eye at him.

“Did no one tell you it’s rude to roll your eyes?” he mumbles, earning a sharp hiss from the Uchiha and feeling the knife disappear mid-stroke from his face.

“Fuck you, shut your mouth unless you want me to cut you for real.”

This time, he opens both eyes, only to stare up into the blood-red of Obito’s Mangekyō, intense and frightening on the receiving end of the glare. He swallows around an empty throat, unable to look away once snared by the fierceness of that dōjutsu. It only lasts a second until the red vanishes and he’s left gazing into Obito’s coal-black iris, but the unique pattern of Kamui seems branded onto Kakashi’s retinas—and he thinks incredulously that until not long ago, he had an eye like that too.

“So,” Obito says conversationally as he resumes his work, “you are a jōnin sensei. That’s pretty cool. Genma actually told me about it, after last week.” His gaze is focused on the precision of his movements, but it doesn’t fail to sharpen when Kakashi makes an aborted humming noise. “I said shut up.” He huffs and it’s almost like he resists shaking his head disapprovingly.

After a moment, Obito continues. “You never said you were Naruto’s sensei.” And he sounds serious, thoughtful in the manner he utters the words. Perhaps there’s even a hint of accusation veiled in his voice. On his expression, the same gravity is displayed. Kakashi finds himself studying the rugged scars marring the entire right half of his face, taking in the profound welts where his head was crushed under the boulder.

But Obito notices, turning his head to the right in order to hide the damaged skin from Kakashi’s sight, only to petulantly return to his original position when it becomes clear he can’t shave Kakashi properly without looking at him head-on.

“What,” he mutters irritably. A dark look in his eye that Kakashi fails to place beyond the more distinct embarrassment. “Is this the first time you see this, or what?” 

Kakashi doesn’t answer, wondering whether Obito means the question seriously. It didn’t go unnoticed how from all the opportunities he had, the Uchiha never once breached the subject of how his counterpart is faring in Kakashi’s world, and it’s enough to make Kakashi pick up on the undertone of apprehension in his voice. Apprehension and something more, that belongs to the same misplaced sentiment as the dark look in his eye. It’s something between Obito never asking and the total unfamiliarity with the name of Uchiha Madara that he saw on Genma’s, Itachi’s and Sasuke’s faces that gives Kakashi trouble, unable fit all the pieces of the puzzle together in the same picture. It gives him pause, a sense of foreboding filling his stomach drip by drip with ice as he thinks forward to the moment he’ll have to present all the information he holds on the Akatsuki and the war to Kushina.

They don’t speak again after that. Kakashi watches Obito closely, trying to understand the situation to his best capability—it all boils down to the matter of Madara, and whether at least the higher-ups like Kushina are aware of his existence and his rather significant role in restoring Obito’s life. As Kakashi stares on at him, Obito seems set on feigning ignorance, if the way he doesn’t even once meet Kakashi’s persistent eyes is anything to go by. Gone is the ease he worked with as well, replaced by moves that, while still precise, are incredibly rigid.

It only takes a handful of minutes until the kunai glides one last time over the underside of his jaw and down his throat. Obito hums with satisfaction, albeit a bit distracted, toweling away the traces of cream still clinging to Kakashi as he waits for the other man to be done so he can move on to applying the paint for Sukea’s disguise.

“One more thing,” says Obito and the kunai is gone from his grip, replaced by a brown glass vial he uses to pour a few drops of clear liquid onto the palm of his ungloved hand. The oil, when Obito moves to rub it into his skin, is soothing and pleasant over the tissue scraped slightly raw by the blade of the knife. Air seems to stick to Kakashi’s lungs all the while Obito’s calloused palm is touching his face and neck, spreading the oil all over the areas freshly shaved. The touch is concise, doesn’t linger more than it should, but the warmth of Obito’s finger does; Kakashi can still feel it long after Obito retreated to the edge of his bed to give him enough space to prepare. Like a dream of the sun on his frozen skin.

000

When they step outside, Kakashi is hit by a rush of cold air. The temperature is at least some degrees lower here than inside the tent, considering the impressive vastness of the cave, and it feels even colder on Kakashi's already chilled skin. They move quickly and neither of them strikes up conversation. He can see Obito from the corner of his eye, the way he follows the path towards the Hokage's tent automatically while his gaze seems almost unfocused, trapped in his own thoughts. Kakashi, for one, doesn't let himself delve too deep into his mind right now, the memory of Obito's warm fingers on his skin mixing dangerously with the swelling anxiety of what is going to happen in a few minutes' time when he'll have to stand before Kushina and give a detailed account of whatever she wishes to know—the entire troupe of Akatsuki members high on her priority list, surely.

He steals another glance at Obito and wonders how he’s going to react hearing all Kakashi has to say. Shock and denial, perhaps, and he can almost imagine a furious Obito stubbornly refusing to believe he could ever be the puppeteer pulling the strings of the Akatsuki. But this image feels wrong; the stiffness lingering in the air around Obito after his more than curious question fuels the brimming disquiet stirring in Kakashi’s gut. It’s like a weight latched to each of his limbs, making his step heavy and something like doubt creep into his thoughts, irrationally.

They arrive all too soon, and even though this is the first time Kakashi sees the tent without a hood to obstruct his vision, he recognizes it immediately. It is unassuming, gray and no larger than the neighboring ones in the neat row lining the street on both sides, but the energy around it is mute, so tightly wound around itself that it feels like a blank spot in the otherwise humming picture of the area. The privacy seals safeguarding the most important place in the village are active, it seems, and before they can cross the remaining distance towards the entrance, the air in front of them ripples. An ANBU appears before them, blocking their path.

“Hokage-sama is in a meeting. You must wait until she is ready to receive you.”

Next to him, Obito curses under his breath. He finally seems to have returned to himself, more focused than only moments ago, pinning the tent under a thoughtful glare.

“They’re still in there?”

The ANBU nods. His mask is familiar to Kakashi—it’s Boar, one of the operatives serving in Princess Tsunade’s current elite guard.

Before Kakashi can even begin to wonder what type of meeting is taking place enough to make Obito scowl at the tent, the two flaps part and three figures emerge onto the street, brushing past them without as much as a single glance. Kakashi is left staring after them, power and presence salient in their wake, because he knows who these three people are. For a brief moment, he thinks he sees Gaara under the flowing white and green garb of the Kazekage, but that’s not quite right— it's not the young man who has become one of Naruto's closest friends over the years, but the person hidden under the layers of fabric bears a striking resemblance to him, nonetheless.

The Yondaime Kazekage walks briskly alongside two of his children. Kankurō and Temari look unchanged, although the two of them paint a strange picture at their father's side instead of Gaara's.

“Come on.”

Obito taps him on the shoulder, but Kakashi can’t immediately tear his gaze away from the swiftly retreating trio. After witnessing firsthand Gaara’s rise from the blood-thirsty monster fate had bestowed upon him to the wise Regimental Commander of the entire Allied Forces, seeing anybody else as the Kazekage seems inappropriate and unfair.

“Sukea-san, Lady Hokage is waiting for us,” the Uchiha repeats, gripping Kakashi’s shoulder with enough force to make him wince subtly.

When he turns to the tent, all the anxiety comes back to him in a rush. His heartbeat picks up and he almost wishes he didn’t have to step inside. He does it anyway, following Obito past the heavy gray tarp into the room he’s already seen once. At first glance, it doesn't hold much difference to the last time he was here. It's still sparsely furnished, the round table centered in the middle and the five occupied chairs around it being the only pieces filling the otherwise bare space. The air, on the other hand, is stuffed and so thick with tension that Kakashi has to fight to suck any into his lungs. Even the torches, one in each corner, burn not as brightly as they should, a darker quality to their flames which shroud the room in an eerie glow.

It catches him off guard that there are other people besides Kushina in there– even though it really shouldn’t –, and he stops a few short steps away from the entrance, concealing his surprise under a reticent smile that goes unnoticed by the five people still gripped in tight discussion around the table. Obito doesn’t advance either, straightening his posture and clearing his throat, loudly.

The grating buzz of the voices stops, five pairs of eyes looking up at them with keen attention now that their presence has been made known. They don’t remain on Obito as much as they seem interested in Kakashi, studying him inquisitively when they don’t recognize his face. Only two people hold the secret knowledge of his real identity in their eyes, peering at him in a guarded, yet rapt way.

“I would like to pick up this conversation again later,” Kushina turns back to address her council, breaking the snare their gazes had put on Kakashi, even if their interest in him doesn’t seem to wane. “Please, Shikaku-san, if you could think up a solid strategy and run it over with me later, I would be very grateful.”

The head of the Nara Clan nods in understanding. “Very well, I will see what I can do.”

“Kushina, this is a serious matter,” Homura warns while Koharu bobs her head in complete assent with her fellow senior. Both of them look just as wrinkly and stiff as Kakashi remembers them. “I want you to consider well before taking action.”

“I will,” she agrees, though there’s impatience in her voice. She stands up along with the others, planting her hands firmly on the table and watching them retire with a deep-set frown on her face.

As they take their leave, Homura and Koharu squint suspiciously at Kakashi, to which he responds by rejuvenating the smile on his lips. At least they don’t stop to inquire about his persona, continuing on their way and forming their judgement silently, and Kakashi feels relieved.

Shikaku leaves as well, nodding once in greeting when he moves past Obito and Kakashi on his way out, his curiosity much more subtle and less harsh than that of the pair of elders.

When the flap shuts again behind Shikaku, Kushina exhales loudly and tiredly, cutting through the restless quiet the departing members have left behind. On her right, Itachi sits calm and unperturbed by the tension racking the atmosphere, his whole attention trained on Kakashi.

“Fuck, I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” Obito curses and crosses the distance to the table, plopping down into a chair with the same unceremonious lack of grace he used to have as a teen. Kakashi, for one, is glued on his spot.

“Me neither. I’ll debrief you later, and there’s something I need you to do too.” Kushina squeezes her eyes shut, only for them to fly open after a beat and lock on Obito in predatory warning. “What did I say about cursing? Seriously, Obito, it’s a really crude habit.”

Obito shrinks back, just barely, the urge to defend himself and a sheepish, fearful look battling each other on his face. “It’s just one shitty swear word, I am allowed—”

“No! And if I hear one more _f_ -word when I’m around you, I promise to kick your ass, kid.”

“Whatever.” The Uchiha clenches his jaw, leaning back into the chair and folding his arms over his chest. Then, he twists around and raises an eyebrow at Kakashi. “Why are you still standing there?”

This seems to jolt Kushina into the reality of the situation, and she looks sharply to him as if she’d forgotten he was there at all.

“Come here,” she prompts him, patting the table in invitation. “It seems so long ago that we spoke last.”

With only slight reluctance and extreme strength of will, he manages to leave his spot and sit down in the chair furthest away from everyone else. The wood is firm under his body, and one of his hands grips the edge of his seat, feeling the rough, unlacquered material dig into his palm. The touch is grounding when he is the focal point of attention for the three shinobi in the room.

“As I understand, you have information that could be essential to us in use against the Akatsuki.”

“Potentially,” he interrupts Kushina. “From what I’ve so far gathered, the information I hold about my world could easily turn out to be totally irrelevant to your situation here.”

“It is worth knowing either way,” Itachi speaks with token clarity. “Every bit of knowledge is important and even the smallest detail could be the leap forward we needed.”

Of course, Itachi is right. However divergent they may be, their two worlds must be tangential to some degree, or otherwise Kakashi wouldn’t be here, about to be grilled with questions he’d rather not answer.

Kushina inclines her head approvingly. There’s a glint to her eyes as she watches Itachi, seeping through the composed façade of a Hokage; the look is knowing but bearing the luster of something akin to pride. Kakashi doesn’t know what to make of it, doesn’t understand the depth of the relationship between the two other than the distinct fact that Itachi is on Kushina’s council and that she trusts him enough to divulge the secret of Kakashi’s identity to him.

“I want to know everything, Kakashi. Start with the Akatsuki, who they were in your world, what goals they had and how they proceeded about accomplishing them. Don’t be skimpy with the details, even if it’s going to take us all day. The more, the better, you know. Obito—” Kushina turns abruptly to the scarred Uchiha, gesturing vaguely behind her, “—can you go in the back and bring me ink and a brush? Thanks.”

“If you’d prefer it, I could put him under my genjutsu,” suggests Itachi, deadpan, and Kakashi’s heart plummets to the floor with the automatic fear Itachi’s genjutsu instills in him. It’s a struggle not to tense and to keep the alarm off his face, and even so, his eyes widen and latch onto the younger man in the same way prey might freeze and stare dead at the pouncing hunter. His stomach churns with aversion, the vulnerability of his position hemming in around him like a sickly maw closing its jaws with him inside.

“Wait,” he breathes out, hand reaching over the table in a half-realized halting gesture before he catches himself. When Kushina and Itachi look at him, he tries to appear as collected as he can urge himself to be, meeting their eyes despite feeling like he’s willingly staring at his death sentence. “I believe there’s no need for such drastic measures, I am perfectly willing to cooperate.”

Even Obito, who was half-way to the back of the tent, pauses to give him a curious glance before disappearing behind the divider to fetch the supplies Kushina asked for, and Kakashi doesn’t doubt that his own unease is blatant despite his best effort not to let it through.

“It’s alright, Kakashi, I’d also prefer if you were conscious for this exchange,” Kushina assures him with such conviction behind her words that it pierces through the wall of anxiety around him and he’s left dazed for a second, his next breath his first full one in minutes. “The fūinjutsu I used last time should suffice.”

“You are familiar with my genjutsu.” And there it is, again, Itachi’s irrefutable conclusion spoken with the intonation of a question; a habit Kakashi’s picked up on when they served in the same ANBU team.

“Well, you could say that,” he laughs dryly, fighting to fend off the creeping anxiety attached to the dreadful memory of days of interminable torture in Itachi’s Tsukuyomi which threatens to suffuse him again.

Itachi seems to want to inquire further into the topic, but he is interrupted before he can add anything else when Obito returns with the inkstone and a brush, setting them down with care in front of Kushina, who begins the process of infusing chakra into the ink and then painting the seal over the tenketsu at the base of Kakashi’s throat, a grounding hand on his shoulder while the other works a series of hand signs. When the seal is active, heat blooms from Kakashi’s throat like he’s just drunk a glass of strong liquor, diffusing towards his extremities in waves of pleasant warmth. The sensation is much more enjoyable this time around.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine. Normal.”

“Okay, good,” Kushina nods and distances herself from Kakashi, going back to sit in her chair between Itachi and Obito. What a strange picture they paint—Kurama’s vessel flanked by two of the most powerful Uchihas. It’s even stranger how it seems so normal, so natural to the three in front of him, when in his own Konoha this would’ve been seen as the highest level of danger for the village. He wonders what’s different to make it possible in this world; if Lord Danzō agrees – or perhaps he doesn’t, he wasn’t in the council, after all – .

“Now, if you could start with naming all the known members of the Akatsuki of your world.”

So, this is it. The moment to lay the cards on the table. His gaze sweeps over the three ghosts, each overflowing with interest and curiosity in their own way, beyond the carefully placed masks of stoicism. He draws in a deep breath, steeling himself in preparation to recount the information he has.

“The founding members of the Akatsuki were Yahiko, Nagato and Konan of Amegakure. Of the original formation, before they acquired the status of terrorist organization, we only know the names of Kyūsuke, Kie and Daibutsu. Now, the list of members turns a bit longer after the Akatsuki began recruiting nukenins. We know that they operated in duos, and Konoha’s records include Sasori of the Red Sand, Deidara from Iwagakure, Hidan from Yugakure, Kakuzu of Takigakure, Jūzo and Kisame from Kiri, as well as two creatures – Zetsu they called themselves, White Zetsu and Black Zetsu – no past affiliation to any of the villages.” He pauses, searches Obito’s face when mentioning Zetsu, but he finds nothing other than a slightly tenser jaw and narrowed gaze.

Three more members have to be mentioned – he’s saved the Konoha criminals for last – and he almost balks when he opens his mouth again, dry and tongue heavy as it moves to form the words. He’s already told them to what fate the Akatsuki has forgone. They will find out, Obito will find out what he was, how Kakashi failed him utterly— “There were some members from Konoha among the faces in the organization,” he forces himself to say. “One of them is Orochimaru… Another is you, Itachi.” The air shakes with barely contained surprise, eyes turning sharply on the young Uchiha who, for the first time Kakashi’s ever seen him, looks altogether lost, if only for a second. Kakashi decides not to mention Sasuke, at least not yet. But he has to tell them about Obito, he has to tell them now—“And…” He tries to swallow, but his gullet is parched; he glances at Obito and then away, and— “And there was one other member, Tobi he called himself before… Well, before he declared himself to be none other than Uchiha Madara.”

He doesn’t want to lie, he parts his lips again, tries to add the cherry on top, to say Obito’s name, but his breath stops short in his throat. Stays there like hot iron clogging his throat, like a punch to his trachea, like teeth sunken into his bared neck, and soon the moment proper to say it founders like a heavy stone in water.


End file.
